


This December

by CornflowerBlue (DayDaDahlias)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ashton hates Christmas, Banter, Cal is gay but only for Ashton, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Special, First Christmas, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Ice Skating, Luke Hemmings Loves Ashton Irwin, M/M, Michael Clifford & Calum Hood Friendship, Michael is just loud, Pine Trees, Pining, Texting, This is the most wholesome thing I will ever write, fluff with a little bit of ~spice~, ~spice~ being past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayDaDahlias/pseuds/CornflowerBlue
Summary: “I’m gonna stay here,” Luke returns pathetically, “bymyself. I’m gonna be alone for fucking Christmas.”“Well you won’t bealonealone,” Calum replies. When Luke looks up, confused, he nods his head to the side to where Ashton is setting his bag down and pulling out a chair. “Ashton’ll be here.”Or, the one where Ashton and Luke are stuck together for the holidays, Ashton hates Christmas, and Luke is trying to make him fall in love.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 50





	This December

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! This is me trying to write something fluffy and wholesome for the holiday season because I've never written a Christmas fic before and I always like trying new things with my writing! 
> 
> But, of course, I had to add _some_ angst because that is unfortunately who I am.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Luke should have skipped Thanksgiving. 

He knew that sacrifices would have to be made when he went off to college and he had multiple long discussions about it with his mother before he finally left. No more spending money than he had to and because of that, he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it home every chance that he got. 

He should have sacrificed Thanksgiving, or his dad’s birthday, or Labor Day Weekend. Any one of those would have sufficed. He could have missed any of those holidays. Anything but Christmas. 

You can’t miss fucking _Christmas_. 

He had gone home for Thanksgiving (and what a Thanksgiving it was, filled with the perfect balance of good food and aggressive political debate with his aunts and uncles, which was especially fun because every time he insinuated he was gay, they flinched. He had half expected to wake up in a puddle of holy water the next morning). 

And then, he had gone home again for his dad’s birthday to give him those engraved cooking utensils he spent a fortune on (he’s thinking to himself right about now that he should have bought some wooden utensils at Five Below and wrote on them with sharpie; it would have been the same). 

And _then_ he had gone home for Labor Day weekend because his mom had sent him a picture of Petunia with her new favorite toy (which was a stuffed frog) and she had been so fucking cute and, what? Was Luke expected to _not_ fly home to scratch her ears and kiss her nose? 

At the time it had felt like a completely reasonable course of action but he’s starting to regret that decision now. Because, after of all those choices and all of those flights and all that money un-well spent, he can’t go home for fucking Christmas this year. 

You’re allowed to miss your father’s birthday (because God knows he’s had a hundred) and you’re allowed to skip Thanksgiving (because you can blame the family homophobia) and he really shouldn’t have even gone home for Labor Day in the first place (in his defense though, Petunia had been so cute and she had bounced up and down when he opened the door so it was to an extent worth it) but you cannot… you simply _cannot_ miss fucking _Christmas_.

“Listen, Mum, I know that,” Luke tries, the phone cushioned between his shoulder and his ear and he hoists his backpack up onto his shoulder. “And I swear, I’m trying to figure it out but—”

“Luke, you’re going to miss Christmas!” his mother wails in his ear and he has to pull the phone away from his ear at how loud she is. That’s his mother though; making everything out to be worse and far bigger than it is. She fades off a second later though when she yells from the phone into the rest of the house. “Luke is missing Christmas!”

A chorus of exclamations from his brothers and his father follows. 

“What! Luke’s missing Christmas? Luke can’t miss Christmas!”

“There’s no way! Luke can’t miss Christmas!”

“I spent like six bucks on his present, Luke can’t miss Christmas!”

Her voice returns right beside his ear, “Luke, you can’t miss Christmas.”

“Yeah, I know that Mum,” he replies because he really _does_ know that—you don’t miss fucking Christmas—and he’s never felt like such an ass in his life as telling his dear sweet mother that he can’t make it home for the holidays, “but there’s not a lot I can do at this point. I don’t have the money.”

“Well, we could—” she starts but Luke is quick to cut her off. 

“And you don’t have it either.” 

He walks from the lecture hall with a quick wave over his shoulder to his professor, keeping the phone to his ear as he begins his trek across campus in the frigid weather. He loves the Christmas season, sure, but he doesn’t love the harsh wind that comes with it. 

“Listen, I want to come, Mum, I really do and you know that but… I don’t see how it’s possible.”

The wind whips his hair back and he squints his eyes, listening to her let out a soft sound of complaint. 

His boots trudge through the frozen grass as he crosses the common area, saying to his mother, “this is the only time this will ever happen, I _promise_ , but there’s too many things going on right now. For one, I can’t get off work—”

“It’s a goddamn bookshop, Luke,” his mother snaps and he catches his father’s voice in the background berating, _“Liz! Language!”_ but she carries on, ignoring him, “you can quit the damn job if it means coming home.”

“I like my job,” Luke argues (for the hundredth time) but his mother won’t seem to hear it, bickering on and on in his ear in that higher register she adopts when she’s upset. He hates to admit it, but he does the same thing. He talks over her, more demanding, “I don’t have the money for a plane ticket and I have a paper due the day we come back and I swear, Mum—honest—that this is the only time I will ever do this but I…” He huffs out a foggy breath. “I can’t make it home this year.”

He physically hears his mother’s heart break through the receiver. 

She says, quietly, directed to his brothers and his father, finally defeated and Luke feels like the worst son in the whole world, “Luke is missing Christmas.”

❄☃❄

Calum and Ashton are waiting for him outside the Student Center like they always are on Tuesdays, Calum pressed up against one of the large columns supporting the awning, his arms crossed and his scarf bunched up around his throat, ever-present smirk curling his lips up and making his face rounder.

Ashton, on the other hand, is standing a few feet away from him with a smile painted on his face, hailing Luke down with a cup of hot chocolate in one hand because he is, by all definitions, perfect and the best friend Luke could ever possibly hope to have. 

He isn’t dressed quite as warmly as Calum and Luke are, instead wrapped up in a simple turtleneck and jeans, the tip of his nose and ears a flushed red from the cold, his cheeks following suit, bringing out the smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose.

“Did I ever tell you that I’m in love with you?” Luke asks him as he nears, reaching out his gloved hands for the cup. 

“It’s always implied,” Ashton answers, handing over the drink which Luke accepts greedily, taking a long well-deserved and desperate swig. 

Calum snorts to himself, watching as Luke gulps it down. “Okay, okay. Remember to breathe, Lukey. What’s up with you?”

Luke parts from the drink, the top of his lip feeling hot with residual chocolate, clasping both his hands around the cup to keep them warm as he hunches his shoulders into his neck. He sends a quick glance between the two of them, standing in front of him with their hands stuffed in their pockets, a scarf wrapped around Calum’s neck and Ashton’s cheeks continuing to redden. 

He exhales, licking his upper lip as he confesses, “I can’t make it home for Christmas this year.”

In an instant, Calum’s eyes bug out of his head as he lurches from his relaxed position against the column. “Wait, _what_?”

Ashton choruses, surprised, “are you serious?”

Luke sighs, starting into the Student Center so they can get out of the cold air and Calum and Ashton follow after him, taking long fast strides, Calum’s eyes maintaining their widened state like he simply can’t believe what he’s hearing. Ashton doesn’t seem as floored but he is alarmed at the new knowledge, creasing his brow and frowning. 

“You can’t make it home at all?” Calum asks and when Luke confirms with a nod, he gawks, “what? Why not? What’s happened?”

Ashton asks, concern edging into his voice, “is everything okay? No one’s hurt, right?”

Luke makes his way to one of the large study tables in the center of the room beneath the glass ceiling that is speckled in fog and frost, Calum and Ashton continuing after him. He assures over his shoulder, “Everything’s fine; I just don’t have the money for it right now and I can’t skip work and I have a paper and yada yada, my life is falling apart and I’m a disgrace to the Hemmings household. Pretty much the usual.”

He plunks down in one of the chairs, setting his hot chocolate on the table in front of him and moving to bury his face in his hands as the realization of disaster hits. 

Calum sits across from him, his jaw slack. “Holy shit, for real? What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna stay here,” Luke returns and he can’t help the pathetic way he tacks on, “by myself. I’m gonna be alone for fucking Christmas.”

“Well you won’t be _alone_ alone,” Calum replies, moving to get his notebook out of his bag. When Luke looks up, confused, he nods his head to the side to where Ashton is setting his bag down and pulling out a chair. “Ashton’ll be here.”

“What?” Luke asks, eyes snapping to Ashton who realizes he’s been called on and stares back. “You’re staying?” 

“He always stays for Christmas,” Calum fills in before Ashton can reply because Calum likes playing a little game called Always-Answer-Questions-For-Ashton-Because-I’m-His-Roommate-And-I-Know-Him-Better-Than-He-Knows-Himself-And-Like-For-Other-People-To-Know-That-Too. It is Luke’s least favorite of his games. “You didn’t know that?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” Luke takes a hold of his hot chocolate again. He plans to thank Ashton a hundred times over for it later, holding eye contact with him as he wonders why in the world he’s staying at his college for fucking Christmas. Maybe his family comes here and it’s easier to stay in the dorms?

“Yeah, I stay,” Ashton answers with some humor evident, unzipping his bag.

“Does your family not celebrate Christmas or something?” Luke asks. 

Ashton, bent over his bag so his face isn’t visible, answers, “it’s complicated.”

 _Well, that didn’t resolve anything,_ Luke thinks to himself, watching as Ashton rummages through his bag before straightening up, irritation evident. 

“Hey, I forgot my copy of _Othello_ ,” he informs the two of them, tapping the tabletop with his knuckles, “I’m gonna run and grab a copy from the library; I’ll be back in like ten, okay?”

Calum and Luke chorus quick affirmations and then Ashton is walking away from them and out of the Student Center. Luke watches him go, wearing his turtleneck and nothing else warm, narrowing his eyes. 

The moment the door closes behind him, Luke jerks his head back to Calum, leaning over the table, so his torso is half bent over it. “How come I didn’t know Ashton was staying here during Christmas? He didn’t tell me.” 

“I mean, you shouldn’t be surprised.” Calum flips his notebook open, no longer looking at Luke but at his notes, tapping the tip of his pen on the page. “Ash never goes home for the holidays.”

“What? He doesn’t?” Luke wonders, alarmed because this information has never once made itself apparent before now. “Why not?”

Calum shrugs, clicking his pen cap. “Dunno. He’s never said.”

“You didn’t _ask_ him?” Luke asks incredulously, settling back in his seat. 

“It’s _Ashton_ ,” Calum returns with a snort, glancing up at Luke just as exasperated. 

And, yeah, he’s got a point there… It _is_ Ashton and Ashton doesn’t really talk about home that much. It isn’t in his nature. Not that there’s anything wrong with that—there isn’t, people are allowed to have their secrets (God knows Luke has his own)—but now he is wondering just how much about Ashton he doesn’t know. 

“So what does he do?” Luke asks, perturbed.

Calum shrugs. “Stays here, drinks eggnog, watches Christmas themed porn. I don’t know.” He breaks off, dropping his pen on the table and leaning forward, folding his arms over the table. “Seriously, you’re not gonna go home for the holidays? I could try to sneak you into my suitcase if you want.”

Luke smiles at him. “I appreciate it but no. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. 

He purses his lips, resting his head in one of his hands. “I guess Ash and I’ll… figure something out for ourselves here.”

“Oh fun,” Calum smirks, while rolling his eyes around in his head and peering down at his notes, “you can watch Christmas porn together. Who’s the elf and who’s the reindeer?”

Luke reels back. “What kind of sick Christmas porn are you watching?”

“Dude, you don’t wanna know.”

And no, Luke doesn’t and he’s glad he never gets the chance to because he hears the door opening and Ashton is reentering the building with a book tucked under his arm and a hand cupped around his mouth as he breathes feeling back into it from the cold. Luke doesn’t know how he can stand not having more layers.

“Guess you and Lukey are Christmas buddies this year!” Calum calls out to him as he nears. 

Ashton laughs gently in response, and Luke loves the way his eyes crinkle when he does. 

“It’s gonna be so much fun. You two little love birds, spending the holidays together, oh I could just swoon,” Calum purrs, bumping shoulders with him as Ashton sits down at his side. Luke doesn’t miss the way he winks in Ashton’s direction.

Ashton sends Luke a look over the table, eyebrows raised, and Luke sinks further back into his chair with the truth of the matter—that he and Ashton really _are_ about to spend the holidays alone together. Not as love birds, of course, but as friends and that’s honestly worse. Who spends the holidays with their best friend when they have a family? That’s depressing. It’s all so fucking depressing.

Ashton chortles to himself before he directs his eyes to the table and says, “I mean, sure, yeah, except for the fact that I fucking hate Christmas.”

He tries to soften the blow with a hesitant chuckle, batting his eyelashes up at the two of them but Calum and Luke are staring at him with no humor in their expressions because no matter how nice Ashton’s hazel eyes and inky eyelashes are, neither of them find it in the slightest bit funny. 

“Oh… Shit,” Calum mumbles and he snorts, turning to Luke with a tentative expression, eyebrows angled up. “Forgot about that one, huh?”

 _Yeah_. Luke lets out a sharp exhale. He did.

The way Ashton’s eyes crinkle hopefully at their corners isn’t enough to save the moment.

❄☃❄

“Wait, you’re actually ditching?” Michael asks as he manhandles his toiletry bag into his suitcase. He is half lying on the bed, half lying on his suitcase, elbow deep in it as he tries to force all his belongings inside. Sweat is clinging to his hairline and it makes Luke want to laugh at him, but at this point, he’s too bothered by his own predicament to crack so much as smile.

“I’m not ditching!” Luke argues, leaning against the bedroom door frame, watching as his roommate packs up to fly home without him. 

His and Calum’s flight is in less than three hours, so he’s really testing his limits but it’s Michael, isn’t it? And Michael wouldn’t be Michael if he didn’t test them. 

Luke taps his head against the doorframe between every word. “I literally cannot make it home.”

“I could pay for your ticket?” Michael suggests, shoving down his clothes into the bag which is uncomfortably close to bursting, grunting in the process and Luke scrunches his nose at the sound. 

“No.” Luke massages his temple. “I’m not gonna ask you to do that. Besides, it’s too late now. Christmas is in a week; there’s no way the airlines aren’t completely booked by now.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees, jumping on his suitcase, “you’ve got a point there. So, what are you doing instead?”

Luke shrugs, rubbing at the bottom of his chin with his palm. He doesn’t really have plans for what he’s going to do on his first Christmas alone. Usually his mom has everything booked to the second for the holidays and he never has to worry about it. Now it’s just… It’s whatever he wants to do. 

It’s devastating. 

“I mean, the plan was to…” He looks around the room. “Stay here I guess. Watch TV. Write my paper… ”

“You’re gonna stay _here_? In the dorms?” Michael asks in alarm. “For fucking _Christmas_?”

Luke lets out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like there’s anything else I can do.”

And there’s not. He doesn’t have any family within a ten hour radius and it’s too late now to plan to go anywhere. So it’s looking like his Christmas is going to consist of him, maybe a cup of spiked eggnog or hot chocolate, and a shitty Hallmark movie. 

“Luke, no.” Michael stops his packing, learning against his bag to stare at Luke in disgust. “You can’t be alone on Christmas, that’s criminal. You’re gonna make me cry.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Mike; it’s not a big deal.”

It is a little bit of a giant deal.

“I’m serious!” Michael insists, imploring. “No one should be alone for Christmas. That’s so fucking depressing. You’re nineteen years old; you’re not old enough to be alone for Christmas yet. That shouldn’t happen until at least your fifties.”

“I won’t be _alone_ , alone,” Luke says, stubbing his sock into the floorboard, his eyes directed to the ground. He perks up as he remembers, stretching a hand out. “Ashton’s staying.”

“Oh, fantastic,” Michael drones, rolling his eyes back into his head, “instead of being alone for Christmas, you get to spend it with the Grinch instead.”

“Ashton’s not the Grinch!” Luke argues through a laugh. “Just because you don’t like Christmas doesn’t make you the Grinch.”

Michael points his loose toothbrush at Luke which has yet to make it into his suitcase. “I don’t trust a man that doesn’t like Christmas. Something’s gotta be wrong with him. He may be a serial killer. I don’t think I feel safe with you two trapped together. What if he kills you over the holidays?”

Luke folds his arms, smiling at him. “I don’t think Ashton is a murderer.”

“You can’t prove that he’s not,” Michael replies, waving his toothbrush, “he’s a mysterious fucker, that one. The only things I know about him, I’ve learned through Cal. Murderer behavior, you ask me.”

Which isn’t exactly untrue. Not the murderer part, but the part that everything they know about Ashton intimately has been told to them through Calum. Calum is sort of their household ‘Ashton Whisperer,’ as it stands. Luke makes it sound more dramatic than it is; it’s not like Ashton is some silent warrior or stone statue or extraterrestrial being, he’s simply more reserved about his life than other people are. Luke has always found Ashton intriguing for that reason. 

But how can you not be intrigued by a pretty boy with freckles and secrets? 

Ashton is and always has been the wildcard of their friend group. Calum, Michael, and Luke all moved from the same small town to go to college together with the same perfect, apple-pie, white picket fence family stories. None of them are children of divorce, none of them have death on the family tree, none of them have ever had their hearts broken… The three of them are about as simple as they come.

When they came to campus, Michael and Luke had chosen to room together and Calum had found himself a random roommate which had, of course, turned out to be Ashton. It had scared the three of them originally, having to welcome a new member to their compact group and for the first four weeks they tread around Ashton like they were walking on eggshells, but they really shouldn’t have. 

Ashton is a loud and proud sort of guy. He’s easy to talk to, very charming, and he’s got dimples for days. Luke really fucking likes him; he really truly does and he always has since that first time five weeks into their acquaintance that Ashton had met him after one of his classes with a coffee, all hazel eyes, shiny smile, and dimples and said, “Hey, since Cal and I are roomates and I’m gonna be around you 24/7 now, I think it’s in both our best interests to like each other. So, legally, you’re required to be my friend now” and Luke couldn’t argue with the law. 

But he can acknowledge that Ashton is far more mysterious than anyone is willing to let on. He talks about his interests whenever asked; Luke knows all his favorite songs and his favorite books and his favorite shows—but none of them know _anything_ about Ashton’s family or life before college. As far as they’re concerned, Ashton sat around by himself in a college dorm for twenty years, waiting for the day Calum walked in and said, “Honey, I’m home!”

They don’t know if Ashton has siblings, two parents or one or none. If he grew up in a small town or a city, if he was a rich kid or poor. They don’t know jack shit about the guy. Which is what makes staying with him alone over Christmas both overwhelmingly scary but also… so enticing. Over this holiday break, Luke may be the first to crack the Ashton code. 

That, or be murdered by him, apparently, which is less ideal. 

“I don’t think Ashton is a murderer,” Luke reiterates, “nothing about him screams murderer to me. Do murderers usually watch the Great British Bake-Off with Calum every weekend and try to recreate the cakes at one in the morning?”

Michael nods to himself, turning back to his suitcase to try and force his toothbrush into it. “Maybe not, but are you sure you want to spend Christmas with him?”

“Why’re you acting like he’s a stranger!” Luke laughs in disbelief. “We’ve spent a whole year and a half with him. He went to that fucking emo concert with you when no one else would. Nothing has insinuated that he’s a murderer.”

“I know.” Michael smiles at him over his shoulder. “I’m just being annoying, but I do worry about you being alone together for the holidays. That’s a whole week of just the two of you. What if Cal and I come back and you hate each other and the entire dynamic of our group turns to shambles? What if we have to pick sides?”

“I doubt that’ll happen,” Luke replies. “Besides, you’d pick my side.”

“Would I?” Michael asks, bouncing his brows. “If Ashton’s a murderer, I don’t want to be his enemy.”

Luke deadpans, “He’s not a murderer.” 

“You never know.” Michael finally forces his toothbrush into his bag, laying overtop of it with a heavy huff, “Fucking _finally_. God, that took too long.”

Luke bobs his head to the doorway. “You ready?”

“No,” Michael groans, voice muffled into his suitcase. “I spent all my energy packing, I need a nap.”

“Too bad,” Luke says, “we gotta drive to the airport.”

He kicks Michael in the shoe and he rolls off his suitcase, which is swollen and the zipper is barely holding it together. Michael blinks up at him through lazy green eyes, flashing a smile, “Merry Christmas to you too, Lukey.”

“Uh-huh.” Luke takes him by the hand and helps him to his feet. “Merry Christmas, Mike. Now hurry up or Ashton really _will_ murder us.”

❄☃❄

The drive to the airport is about an hour and ten minutes through downtown so by the time they finally arrive, Calum is starting to genuinely panic.

“We’re gonna miss our fucking flight,” he laments in a hiss, holding onto his hair, snagging a fistfull of black curls as though he plans to rip it from his scalp while he frantically looks around the Terminal—in case it decides to disappear before he can get on a plane, “and it’s all Michael’s fault. Dammit, Michael!”

“It is not my fucking fault,” Michael argues as he trips out of the backseat, holding up his bottle of Dr. Pepper like it’s a bottle of vodka.

“It’s gonna be fine, Cal,” Ashton comforts like the mother he is, pulling Calum’s suitcase from the back of his car (Ashton is the chauffeur of the group; it’s been decided. Not because he’s the best driver or anything of that nature; it’s usually because he’s the only one of them not shitfaced). “Run to your gate, okay? You’ll make it on time.”

“ _Run_?” Michael cries, poking his head from around the other side of the car, his hair flat on one side where he fell asleep against the window. “I’m not _running_ anywhere!” 

“Oh, shut up,” Calum bites, snatching his bag. “If I tell you to run, you’re gonna damn well run.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Michael returns which makes Ashton and Luke roll their eyes in unison, sharing a glance that says ‘why are we friends with toddlers?’ 

“The plane, Cal,” Ashton reminds cordially, which makes Calum go stiff. 

“Shit. Right. We gotta go. Thanks so much, Ash,” Calum babbles, genuinely sounding distressed as he presses a fast, sloppy kiss to Ashton’s temple—who wipes it off instantly after with a scowl—and then a quick peck to Luke’s hairline who only smiles in reply. “I’ll see you guys in a week, okay?” 

“If Ashton doesn’t murder Luke before then,” Michael mutters and Luke considers throttling him for the hell of it. 

“If I murder any of you,” Ashton says, handing Michael the carry-on bag he had forgotten in the backseat of the car, “you’ll be the first to go, Mike.”

Michael blinks, pouting as he accepts the bag. “I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment.”

“It's the only time you’ll ever be first for anything, I’ll give you that,” Luke pipes up and Michael mock laughs before sticking his tongue out at Luke like he really is five.

“For fuck’s sake,” Calum snaps, grabbing Michael by the arm to haul him towards the terminal. “We can’t miss our flight. Talk about murder when we get back.”

As Calum drags him away, Michael waves behind him to Luke and Ashton dramatically. He calls, in a terrible accent, “I’ll miss you, boys! Au revoir! Ciao! C’est la vie! Goodbye, old friends! Feliz Navidad!”

“Michael, shut the fuck _up_ ,” Luke catches Calum say over the noisy airport atmosphere. 

Ashton is snickering to himself, shaking his head as he braces a hand on the hood of his car, and watching as Calum and Michael disappear together into the large building, melting into the sea of other people arguing and bickering and hoping not to miss their flight. 

Ah, the joy of the holiday season. 

And then they are entirely gone from sight and it’s only Luke leaning up against Ashton’s car, the trunk still open, Ashton next to him against the hood, drumming his fingertips over the metal. 

It’s just the two of them. 

Alone. 

“So—” Luke starts, long and drawn out. 

The sounds of other people hurrying to get to their gate almost drowns him out. He turns his head to the side to look at Ashton, raising his brows in question as he tries not to sound too stupid when he speaks. 

“Guess it’s just… _us_ … now.”

Ashton stares back at him for a second before his face splits into a grin and he lets out a stifled cackle, covering his mouth with a hand. 

“What?” Luke asks, shocked. “Wait, what’s so funny?” 

“You better not make it this awkward the whole week,” Ashton replies, crossing to the back of the car to close the trunk. He snickers again to himself. “Because then I actually will murder you.”

“I wasn’t making it awkward,” Luke protests, offended, while following Ashton around the side of the car and he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until it’s already happened but Ashton has opened the passenger side door for him and he’s slipping inside like he’s some royal in a limousine. He lets out a small, “oh, thanks.”

“I think you make things awkward by nature,” Ashton returns without a ‘you’re welcome’ like this isn’t a kind act and it’s something he usually does (which, if Luke thinks about it, isn’t untrue) getting in on the driver’s side and turning the ignition. He begins to pull away from the curb into the line of other cars, in an attempt to escape the bustling terminal.

“I don’t try to,” Luke grumbles, leaning back in his seat, kicking his feet up onto Ashton’s dashboard. 

He doesn’t usually sit up front because Michael and Calum are always quick to call ‘shotgun’ whenever they see Ashton’s car (usually it’s Calum who gets it because he always wins the thumb war) and it’s liberating to an extent, being in the front, but also terrifying because Calum and Michael aren’t making loud jokes and messing around in the backseat and he has no comedic barrier between Ashton and himself. 

There’s a few moments of silence as they drive away from the airport through the traffic, Ashton grumbling under his breath whenever someone pulls out in front of him or honks their horn when he deems they shouldn’t, Luke staring out the window as a plane takes off in the distance and ascends into the sky, parting the white clouds. 

He takes in a long breath, thinking about how he’s supposed to be on a plane with Calum and Michael right now on his way home for Christmas to spend the week with his parents and his brothers and his big, fat dog.

He always likes going home for the holidays. He misses his family more than anything during the school year so the week they get to share together during Christmas always means the world to him. And now he’s missing it. No petting Petunia or giving her a new chewy bone on Christmas. No Jack and Ben making fun of him for being the youngest and teasing him that he doesn’t have a boyfriend yet. No mom making cookies or his dad trying to hang up the last of the lights on the front porch and then subsequently falling off the ladder onto his ass.

It’s him by himself now, in his dorm room—which only has one decoration, a tiny, pathetic plastic tree in the center of Michael and his coffee table—with Ashton in the dorm over, who happens to be the only person in the world Luke knows who hates Christmas.

He thinks about everything he’s missing this year and a piece of his heart breaks off into his chest, floating along into his lungs which makes him take a shuddering breath. 

“You good?” Ashton asks without looking at him, apparently noticing the way his breathing has fluctuated. 

“What?” Luke blinks in quick succession, straightening up in his seat and wiping his eyes. “O-oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m cool. Why?”

Ashton returns his line of sight to the road, flexing his grip on the steering wheel. “No reason… Only asking.”

Luke watches his profile. “Well, I’m cool. So don’t worry.”

Ashton quirks his lips up, eyeing Luke again. “Okay. But this _is_ your first time not going home for the holidays, so you’re allowed to be upset if you want to be. I’m not gonna judge you for that.”

Luke inhales, shooting his eyes back out the window and he finds that their car is passing a large building with wreaths hung up on every one of their twenty windows and he thinks about how brilliant his childhood home probably is right now with the light up snowman his mother likes to put leading up to the walkway. 

About Calum and Michael getting to experience their own family holidays with their parents and Mali-Koa and their dumb dogs and jealousy bubbles hot in his gut.

He chooses to confess to Ashton—because it’s going to be a long fucking week if he doesn’t get it off his chest now, “Yeah. I’ll be honest, I’m pretty bummed.”

“Mhm.” Ashton wets his lips as he continues to drive. “Sorry about this, Lu. Shit sucks.”

Luke wipes his nose with the back of his hand and sniffs. Yep. Shit definitely sucks. 

“But,” Ashton tacks on, his voice gaining a brighter tone as he tries to rectify the darkness that has suddenly settled over them like a haze, “it’s not all bad, right? You get me for a whole week—all to yourself—and I’m a goddamn joy to be around. I’d consider yourself lucky.”

It’s hesitant but Luke smiles at him, letting out a surprised huff of laughter. It’s not a bad thought, really, having Ashton all to himself. They rarely get alone time, what with Michael and Calum always around, cracking obnoxious jokes and offering shots and placing wet, drunk kisses on their faces when they go to a bar. They never travel outside of the pack, Luke too preoccupied with getting good grades and Ashton too preoccupied with playing the mother to properly enjoy himself. 

But, there is still the one issue— 

“Except for the fact that you hate Christmas,” Luke reminds.

Ashton snorts, removing a hand from the wheel. “I don’t _hate_ Christmas.”

Luke retaliates, “You told me and Cal that you ‘fucking hated Christmas.’ How else were we supposed to take that?”

“I misspoke,” Ashton decides, waving said hand, “I don’t hate Christmas, I just… don’t like it s’all. There; you happy? I don’t _like_ Christmas. But I don’t hate it.”

“How can someone dislike Christmas?” Luke wonders and he’s not even asking Ashton so much as he’s asking himself because he truly doesn’t understand it. The Christmas season is his favorite time of year for so many different reasons. “I mean, the lights? Comfy sweaters? Presents? Christmas movies? None of that?”

Ashton shrugs his shoulders, keeping his eyes on the road and his hands return to the wheel with a laxed grip. “Not really what I’m into.”

“I can’t believe I have to spend my week with the only bastard in this universe that hates Christmas,” Luke grumbles, leaning his temple against the cool glass of the window. The buildings are running by. “Why do you even hate it?”

“I don’t hate it,” Ashton tries again and he sounds a tad distressed.

“Right okay.” Luke rolls his eyes, tapping his skull against the glass. “Why do you _dislike_ Christmas?”

“I dunno,” Ashton says and he takes careful concern not to let Luke catch his gaze. “I just don’t like it. Personal reasons.”

Now that’s interesting. Because this is an ‘Uncrackable Ashton Code’ moment. Luke isn’t about to break it right now because it’s too early in the week but he’s determined to find out at least one of Ashton’s secrets by the end of this whole thing, if nothing else simply to hold over Calum and Michael. But, for now, Luke will pass by this answer and focus on something else. They can revisit the comment later. 

“So what do you do all week?” he asks. 

“What?” Ashton glances at him. “For Christmas?”

Luke tips his head.

“Oh, uh—” Ashton makes a sound like he’s struggling to remember— “Y’know, text you guys and I do homework, do some yoga, try cooking new things… I uh… read a lot—”

“Jesus Christ,” Luke exclaims in a moan, “no wonder you hate Christmas, you do the most boring shit. Maybe if you actually celebrated correctly—”

“Hey, don’t disrespect my Christmas!” Ashton gasps in mock offense. “It’s what I want to do! I don’t like the whole… holiday stuff, y’know? The… traveling and stress and present buying… it’s too much.”

“You buy _us_ presents,” Luke interrupts and Ashton opens his mouth and closes it. 

“That’s different,” he decides. “I like how I spend my week! I like yoga and homework and reading; I don’t need to do the whole holiday thing. I never have before.”

That catches Luke off guard. He turns, nearly getting whiplash with how fast he jerks his head to look at Ashton because _never has before_? What the hell does that mean? He asks, “what?”

Ashton peeks at him, realizes he’s being watched, and averts his eyes back to the stretch of road ahead of them. He clears his throat. “Nothing. I just don’t celebrate Christmas. I don’t really need to, I’m alone for it anyhow. Kinda depressing to hang up lights and stockings for yourself, isn’t it?”

Luke finds himself thinking, _okay, sure, but what about those years before college? You weren’t alone then too, were you? Surely not? How did you celebrate Christmas before you moved away? What does your family do now?_

He doesn’t ask though. 

Instead, he points out, “But you’re not alone this year.”

“Nope.” Ashton lets out a breathy chuckle. “This year I’m stuck with your stupid ass.”

“My ass is not stupid.” Luke sits up straighter in his seat. And then, the idea strikes. Singularly, perhaps, his best idea ever. The idea to end all other ideas he’s ever made. “Wait, we should celebrate Christmas my way this year, since you’re not alone.”

“What? What’s wrong with my Christmas?” 

“Your Christmas sucks absolute dick, Ash,” Luke returns, bouncing in his seat in excitement, because now there’s this beautiful fantasy building in his brain where he can be the one to make Ashton Irwin like Christmas, “we’re doing it my way. I swear to God, Ash, by the end of this week, I’m gonna make you fall in love with Christmas.”

Ashton looks at him, smiling—the corners of his eyes crinkling perfectly—before he shrugs, letting out a small huff, and turning his blinkers on. “Sure, I guess. If you wanna try.”

Luke takes it as a challenge.

❄☃❄

_Luke Hemmings has created a group with Mike Stupid-Idiot-Dumbass and Cal._

 _Luke Hemmings has changed the group name to_ **Ashton Will Love Christmas If It Kills Me.**

 **Cal** (5:21):  
lmfao as if

 **Mike** (5:23):  
get ready to die pal

❄☃❄

Luke may be a complete disaster in many aspects, including the way he deals with crushes, his math homework, and social interaction, but he will be the first to admit he is an actual _badass_ when it comes to organization.

And his ‘Make Ashton Fall in Love With Christmas’ plan is no exception. The second they got home, he banished Ashton to his respective dorm (who got a good laugh out of Luke’s urgency as he was pushed down the hall, saying things like, “we’ve only been together three hours and you’re already sick of me? This week is not gonna go well.”) and then hightailed it to his own room to make the perfect Christmas plan for the next week before all his ideas tumble out of brain one by one. 

He may have wasted a significant amount of paper printing out inspiration photos but it’s for the good of the cause. And technically, this binder he’s using was meant for his next semester math class, but fuck that, he’s in the middle of a Christmas emergency and if this is _the_ Christmas that is supposed to make Ashton Irwin fall in love with the holiday, by dammit he’s gonna do it right.

So there he is, sitting in the center of the floor of his dorm, coffee table pushed to the side, rucking up the carpet beneath its feet, surrounded by holiday pictures and different notepads with ideas and his favorite holiday things that his mother did that he thinks will make Ashton feel like he did when he was a kid, bright eyed and giddy with so much as a candy-cane on a string. 

He’s making mood boards, googling like he’s writing a master’s thesis, texting Calum and Michael in his group chat— 

**Luke** (5:47):  
Ok. Planning sesh.  
how do i make ashton like christmas

 **Mike** (5:48):  
Suck his dick i hear that’s persuasive

 **Cal** (5:48):  
wear candy cane lingerie, he’s into that

 **Luke** (5:49):  
Fuck you both, not doing either of those things

 **Mike** (5:50):  
very disappointing. im sure his dick tastes great

 **Cal** (5:51):  
& u would look so good in red babe 

Naturally, they aren’t very helpful because they’re Michael and Calum and Luke doesn’t know why he expected them to be helpful in the first place. But the lingerie comment does have Luke thinking about Christmas apparel so they definitely need to go buy Christmas sweaters at some point. 

Damn, there are so many Christmas activities and only a week to do them. 

He considers calling his mom to ask for advice but then he realizes that she will probably complain about him celebrating without her and start crying over the phone because that’s how she is. She’s already texted him twice today to say ‘miss you’ and ‘wish you were here.’ 

He loves his mom to death but he can admit that she is one hell of a gaslighter during the holidays. 

There’s a sudden knock on his door and he calls, still working through his jumble of Christmas notes on the floor, a pen resting in the corner of his mouth, “come in!”

The door opens and he glances up to see Ashton (who else would it have been though? It’s only the two of them now) walking in and his smile instantly falls when he catches sight of Luke sitting like a toddler in the middle of his dorm surrounded by pictures of snowmen and Christmas trees and decorating tips and cookie recipes. 

Ashton freezes in the doorframe, his hand slipping off the knob. 

“Luke,” he breathes, “you’re not serious.”

Luke looks up at him, using a green marker to highlight which Christmas movie they’re watching together first. “Of course I’m serious; this is your first Christmas.”

“It’s not my first Chr—” Ashton gawks— “I’m not _five_.”

“It’s your first _good_ Christmas, then,” Luke replies in a shrug, taking the pen from the corner of his mouth to draw a large circle around the word ‘snickerdoodle’ before continuing, “and I’m gonna make it perfect. I told you, you’re gonna be in love by the time the week’s over.”

‘Wow,’ Ashton mouths soundlessly, cautiously walking into the room, shutting the door behind him as he enters. “What are you even doing?”

“I’m making a binder,” Luke answers, turning back to his work, eager to show off what he’s been working on for the past hour like a child showing a finger painting to a parent, “with everything we need to do this week. That means baking cookies, decorating the dorm, getting a tree, seeing Santa—”

“Luke, I’m a grown-ass man,” Ashton interrupts, “I’m not seeing fucking Santa.” 

“Okay, then we can cut that,” Luke agrees, marking through the words on one of his many pages, “but everything else we’re doing. I have the money I was going to spend when I got home so that should be enough—”

“Woah, hey, I’m not letting you waste your money on this.” Ashton folds his arms. 

“You can’t tell me what to do with my money.” Luke glares up at him sternly. “Besides, it’s not all for you. I’m having Christmas for me, with my own expenses, and you get to tag along, okay? Think of it like that.”

Ashton stares down at him from where he’s standing at the end of the room’s threshold, brow creased, and arms wrapped around himself tightly as he lets out a brief huff of indignation. 

“Fine,” he grunts, “but I’m gonna make it up to you… somehow. Speaking of—” he leans against the wall— “I came here to tell you I’m making dinner, what do you want?”

“Oh.” Luke waves his hands, turning back to his notes. “Nothing, I’m alright.”

Ashton snorts and Luke peers back up at him. His hazel eyes narrow and the way the dull lighting hits them, it makes them darker than usual. “Let me rephrase. I’m making you dinner. Is there something in particular you want, or are you letting me decide?”

Luke swallows, staring at him. He says, quieter, “Chef’s pick.” 

“Figured,” Ashton answers, and he tugs himself off the wall, turning back to the door.

“Oh wait!” Luke stops him and he turns around, hand on the doorknob. Luke grins hopefully at him, tilting his head to the side. “Can we watch our first Christmas movie while we eat?”

Ashton lets out a groan, throwing his head back in agony and hitting the door with a palm. “No, please God.”

“It’s my Christmas too!” Luke argues and Ashton hangs his head against the wooden frame. He hesitates only a second or two. It’s a good argument. It’s a guilt tripping argument, sure, but with all due respect it is Luke’s Christmas too and spending it by himself sounds like the worst possible thing in the world.

“Fine… I’ll be back in an hour.” Ashton brandishes a threatening finger. “I swear to God, Hemmings, if this shit is animated—”

“Go make dinner,” Luke reprimands with a smile, turning back to the floor and his jumble of Christmas planning. “I’ll worry about the movie.”

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” Ashton mumbles as he opens the door and while Luke laughs aloud like it’s funny, he honestly can’t believe it either.

❄☃❄

Luke respects Ashton’s wishes (this first time) and doesn’t pick an animated movie but _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ is one hundred percent on their list for later in the week.

Tonight, he has chosen the classic, _Love, Actually_ because it’s his favorite and he wants to start the perfect Christmas week off right. 

True to his word, Ashton has returned to his dorm in an hour, holding two plates of food on one arm like he’s a professional, and Luke is genuinely impressed that he can. 

“Wow,” he says as Ashton closes the door behind himself with his foot, passing over a platter that Luke takes from him, “how’d you learn to do that?”

“Oh, I was a waiter for a while in my hometown,” he answers nonchalantly like that isn’t completely new information and Luke can’t help but widen his eyes in shock because he has never heard the words ‘home’ or ‘town’ out of Ashton’s mouth in such quick succession. But Ashton moves right on by it like it was never said. “Tonight, Master Hemmings, you can expect to enjoy a fine serving of bowtie pasta and broccoli.”

Luke sniggers, turning to walk into his living room where he has moved the coffee table back into place, his unnecessarily thick Christmas Planner settled on top of it. “Please never call me Master again.”

“Really?” Ashton follows him. “Some people find it sexy.”

“Don’t ruin our Christmas with sex talk,” Luke complains, setting his pasta down. 

“Luke, it is December nineteenth.” 

“It’s Christmas Prep time,” Luke returns, turning off the lights, “equally as sacred. No sex talk.”

“Okay, fine, whatever the Christmas Sovereign says.” Ashton shrugs as he settles onto the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and his plate on his lap, twirling his fork in his fingers. 

Satisfied, Luke places himself on the couch next to Ashton, retrieving the remote from the table and wrapping his nearby blanket around his shoulders, hugging a throw pillow to his side. He remarks gently as he turns on the TV, “thanks for dinner, by the way.”

“Eh, it’s nothing,” Ashton says without looking at him, skewering a bowtie pasta with his fork, “you’re about to literally buy me a Christmas so I figure it’s the least I can do.” 

“Oh, speaking of!” Luke grins eagerly, shifting his body to the side to face Ashton. “I finished my binder and I’ve got a whole itinerary for the next week.”

Ashton raises his eyebrows. “Jesus, Luke, really? What about your paper?”

“Fuck my paper,” Luke answers with a passion, “this is Christmas.”

Ashton gives him a stern look, stabbing another pasta with his fork. “It’s also your future so I’m only doing all this Christmas stuff if you do your work too. I’ll do a Christmas thing every time you write a page. Otherwise, you’re outta luck.”

Luke pouts, almost protesting but then he figures that’s a fair trade. Besides, the paper is worth ten percent of his grade and it is crucial that he finishes it. He can bake cookies while writing, can’t he?

“And what about your job?” Ashton follows up, eating another bite of his pasta which is pretty fantastic, Luke will admit; Ashton’s a damn good cook. 

“I work the late shifts,” Luke informs, “so that’ll give you time to do your yoga and shit or whatever weird existential things you’re into while I’m away and then when I’m here, it’s all Christmas, baby.”

“If I don’t get to call you Master—” Ashton grins— “You don’t get to call me baby.” 

Luke snorts, adjusting his blanket in his lap and his pasta atop it, watching as the TV finally loads up the movie and he says in a hush from the corner of his mouth, “okay shut up now, it’s starting.”

Ashton chuckles as he pulls Luke’s blanket so it covers both of them.

❄☃❄

**Cal** (7:38):  
how’s it going?

 **Mike** (7:39):  
yeah has ash murdered you yet?

 **Luke** (7:39):  
No, ash has not murdered me yet.  
we’re watching Love, Actually :)

 **Cal** (7:39):  
haha that’s cute

 **Cal** (7:47):  
wait r u serious?

 **Luke** (7:52):  
yea he seems to enjoy it  
he’s asking surprisingly good questions  
btw why IS jamie using a typewriter in 2003?? 

**Mike** (7:52):  
the aesthetic

 **Cal** (7:52):  
wHAT.  
I’ve been trying to get him to watch that movie with me for fucking ever!!!

 **Mike** (7:53):  
lmfao looks like ur getting replaced Cal

 **Cal** (7:54):  
this isn’t fair

 **Luke** (7:55):  
shh we’re trying to watch a movie

 **Luke** (8:02):  
he’s making popcorn !!

 **Mike** (8:05): ugh what a good boyfriend

 **Cal** (8:06):  
Luke what did you do to him  
did you fucking poision him or something???

 **Mike** (8:06):  
how much did the lingerie cost

❄☃❄

Luke learns pretty soon that Ashton is the sort of person who talks through movies. Usually, he would find it annoying if it were someone like Michael (who really _does_ talk through movies and always makes Luke tell him to shut up at least twice) or Calum (who doesn’t talk through movies, but instead falls asleep which is honestly just as annoying) but he doesn’t mind it so much when it’s Ashton.

There are actually a lot of things that Ashton does that would bother Luke if it were anyone else. 

Ashton likes to add helpful commentary, making small sounds of surprise or interest (which is nice because Luke likes what Ashton looks like when he opens his mouth wide or makes his eyes big or gasps).

He’s a pretty invested watcher, bumping Luke with his elbow every now, leaning over to whisper like it isn’t only the two of them, his breath hot on Luke’s neck and right beside his ear, asking what he thinks of the film and of course Luke has a million things to say because he’s seen this movie a hundred times over, every year since he was a kid with his family and he’s more than willing to maintain conversation with Ashton over it. Besides, he likes how invested Ashton looks when he speaks, nodding his head and listening to every word that falls out of Luke’s mouth like they’re at all important. 

It’s as Luke is telling him a story towards the end of the movie, his bowl empty and forgotten on the coffee table, that Ashton says to him, “wow, you really have a lot of Christmas traditions, huh?”

Luke smiles at him in confusion. “Well, yeah, of course I do. It’s what families do.”

Ashton glances at him briefly from the corner of his eyes, something darting over his face, before pursing his lips and nodding. He leans forward to put his empty bowl on the coffee table, mumbling, “Yeah. Right.”

Luke watches him shift to get comfortable on the couch again, this time not huddling up against Luke like he was before but folding his arms and curling into the couch’s armrest. 

He asks, hesitant, across the space between them, “you and your family don’t have any traditions?”

Ashton doesn’t do anything but shake his head. Luke wishes he would let something slip. There has to be so many secrets bottled up in him and Luke wonders how Ashton doesn’t shatter with the amount of them. He couldn’t hold that many secrets. He’d surely break open. 

Ashton sniffs and wipes his nose, gesturing back to the TV screen. “Y’know I actually like this movie.”

Luke takes that as his first success of many and he beams, nudging Ashton’s thigh with his knee. “Just wait for the rest of the week. God, you’re gonna love Christmas.”

Ashton smiles at him softly, this sad sort of look as if to say _yeah, I’m sure I will_. 

The light of the TV catches half his face and his hazel eyes glint. _He’s so pretty in this lighting_ , Luke thinks, and Luke’s never sat with him like this before—just the two of them—and he’s also thinking maybe this week will be good for him too.

❄☃❄

“What the _fuck_?” is what Ashton shouts when Luke wakes him up at six thirty the next morning and all things considered, it’s a completely reasonable response. But, at the same time, there is Christmas prep to be done so sleep is no longer an option.

All shopping has to be finished today in order to be prepared for the rest of the week Luke has planned, and he doesn’t want to be caught in the rush so that means go early. And, because of that, they are walking through the general store with Luke taking long, unbalanced strides, Ashton trailing after him how an old dog follows an owner through the woods, tired and plodding along, head hung low. 

“It is… seven in the goddamn morning,” Ashton groans, directing his eyes up to the high ceiling, “and I am _shopping_ for Christmas decorations. God, where did I go wrong? What have I done to deserve this? I was such a good boy.”

“Shut up.” Luke turns around to wait for Ashton to catch up. He tries to convince, “This is gonna be fun, I swear. Bonding experience!”

“Yeah, about as fun as getting a lobotomy maybe,” Ashton grunts. 

“Like you would know.”

Luke moves to pull his shopping list out of his back jeans pocket, cold fingers fumbling to find it without being able to properly feel. He had planned to bring the entire Christmas binder with him because that was where all his important notes were but Ashton had informed him—while tugging a t-shirt over his head in his bedroom—that if Luke tried to bring a ‘Christmas Bible’ out with them in public he wouldn’t come. So sacrifices had been made and now Luke is walking through the store with the world longest shopping list written on the back of a receipt. 

“We’re not buying all of that right?” Ashton asks and they’ve gotten close enough now that Ashton can hook his chin over Luke’s shoulder to peer down at the list in his hands. 

It doesn’t bother Luke at all but it is sort of surprising to him considering that Ashton is the least touchy of the four of them. Michael and Calum have no problem crawling all over each other and Calum is prone to kiss or sometimes even _lick_ people that he deems his friends. Ashton usually doesn’t involve himself in group hugs or friendly massages or anything of that sort and Calum has constantly complained to Luke that Ashton refuses to cuddle with him in their dorm. So while the touch from Ashton isn’t unwelcome, it’s certainly off-brand. 

“Oh, no,” Luke tells him, trying not to show his confusion at the contact, “this is a guideline.”

“Okay, well your _guideline_ ,” Ashton says in a laugh, reaching around Luke to poke the piece of paper, his arm right against Luke’s waist like he’s about to hug him. His chest is warm against Luke’s spine. “Is about the length of War & Peace.”

Luke snatches his list away from Ashton’s peering eyes and steps out of his hold, keeping the paper tight to his chest. “This is an official Christmas document, _sir_ ; if you have a complaint, you can take it up with Mr. Claus.”

Ashton gets a good laugh out of that, his eyes crinkling and his dimples creating these perfect little grooves in his cheeks. 

“Now, c’mon.” Luke bobs his head, returning the list to his pocket, smiling as he does, unable to break his eyes from Ashton’s lips. “First thing on the list is string lights.”

He doubts they will be able to find any brighter than Ashton’s eyes when he smiles.

❄☃❄

Luke is, by no means, an interior decorator. But when it comes to Christmas, it’s not about things looking good or matching, it’s about looking festive so Luke is piling his shopping cart with whatever the hell catches his eye at any given moment. And that’s turning out to be a _lot_.

“Y’know, I’ve never seen Charlie Brown before,” Ashton says, leaning over the cart’s side to look in at the series of Snoopy lights Luke has dunked atop their other Christmas items (including but not limited to, cookie cutters, wrapping paper, and a wreath). His foot is braced against one of the wheels to keep it from moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Luke says to him from where he is currently shifting through one of the many shelves, taking down a nutcracker to look over it like he can find something in its wooden frown, “that’s in the binder. A Christmas movie a night while we eat dinner. Last night was _Love, Actually_ , then we’ve got _Charlie Brown_ , _The Grinch_ of course, for you—”

Ashton bows his head. “Naturally.” 

“ _Polar Express_ , _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ , and we end on _It’s a Wonderful Life_.” Luke grins happily at him and Ashton rolls his eyes for the millionth time, reaching out and taking the nutcracker from Luke’s hands. He examines it carefully, opening and closing its mouth a couple of times before he returns it to the shelf, eliciting a complaining whine from Luke. 

“We don’t need a nutcracker,” Ashton explains and yeah, Luke knows they don’t _need_ a nutcracker but he _wants_ a nutcracker so he should be able to get the damn nutcracker.

“We need some sort of fun Christmas figure,” Luke replies, looking back up at the many isles. He bounces on the balls of his feet. “Oh, wait, how about an elf on the shelf?”

“Boy or girl?” Ashton asks him, resting back against the cart’s side.

“Getting a girl would be unfair.” When Ashton pulls a face, he elaborates, “a poor girl living in a college dorm of single boys? We can’t subject her to that. What if she sees something she’s not supposed to? I can’t be responsible for ruining an elf on the shelf’s innocence.”

Ashton almost laughs but then he pauses, thinking about it, and he asks, cocking his head to the side, “wait, where are we putting all this stuff again?”

And Luke answers, “uh, your dorm” at the same time Ashton asks, “your dorm, right?”

They both stare at each other. And Luke watches as all the previous brightness drains from Ashton’s irises, hazel growing dimmer. Ashton is the first to break the silence by leaning back and raising a single finger, drawing his brow into a crease and then an X into the air with that hand. 

“Absolutely fucking not. No.” He looks genuinely floored with Luke. “I don’t know what the hell you’re on, Hemmings, but there’s now way in _fuck_ I’m putting this shit in my dorm.”

“What!” Luke asks in alarm, features falling. “But how’re you gonna enjoy it then?”

“ _You’re_ the one who wanted to have Christmas,” Ashton points out and he doesn’t even seem to be joking around anymore; all the joy from the last hour having dissipated between them, a grimace etched into his otherwise handsome features, the dimples turned into frown lines. “I don’t like all this holiday shit, how many times do I have to say it? I’m doing this for you, man. Please, Luke, I love you to death but you have to respect that. I don’t fucking _like_ Christmas.”

Luke instantly averts his eyes to the floor because _okay, ouch, I get that but you didn’t have to yell at me in the middle of a public store._ His shoulders slump and he takes a hold of the shopping cart. 

“Right, yeah,” he mutters, “sorry.”

Within a second, Ashton’s features have soothed and he opens his mouth as if he is startled by how harsh his own words had come out and he says, in such a tender way, “shit, Luke, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s totally fine.” Luke shakes his head and it really _is_ fine; it really is. Ashton shouldn’t have to like Christmas if he doesn’t want to and Luke isn’t about to try and force it on him and the fact that he is even entertaining Luke like this is so kind of him. “It’s just… y’know—” 

Luke shrugs pathetically. 

He can’t figure out how to say _I respect that you don’t like Christmas, honestly I do, but the fact that you spend the holidays alone every year for God knows how long and don’t have any fun memories associated with this time of year breaks my literal fucking heart and all I want is for you to love it and have a good time. Christmas is supposed to be happy, why isn’t it for you?_

“Here.” Ashton reaches out a hand in a gesture of welcoming but not expecting Luke to take it, “we can decorate _your_ dorm and you know that you’ll love it because you love this kind of stuff because you’re cute like that. And I’ll come over when you want me for all the Christmas stuff you have planned. Compromise? I really want you to be happy.”

Luke smiles at him, and he can’t help the way his chest clenches as says, “okay,” but his brain spins in a confused little circle as he wonders if he should feel guilty that Ashton is sacrificing his own happiness for Luke’s. He’s not doing a bad thing, is he? He’s trying to help, right?

“So no on the elf,” Ashton says—the genial tone of his voice and the gleam in his eyes returning like they had never darkened—while he picks the nutcracker back off the shelf, showing it to Luke with a hopeful grin as if to say _this is okay, right? I’m trying to make it okay_ and then putting it in the cart. “But we can take this little shit home. I’m naming him… Nutty.”

Luke pleads, “Ash, please don’t do that to him.”

“Nutty Buddy, my Nutcracker knight in shining armor,” Ashton sings as he takes a hold of the cart and begins to steer it down the aisle. “Next thing on the list is ornaments, right? Y’know, for the tree we don’t have.”

“The tree is for tomorrow,” Luke says, starting after him and while a smile is forming again, guilt is still settling heavy in his stomach. “And yeah, I figure you pick five ornaments and then I pick five and it’s like, yay, joint effort. Co-custody Christmas tree.”

Ashton laughs and when Luke ends up beside him, Ashton reaches out to ruffle his hair, fingers slipping through blond curls. He teases, “You’re adorable; I hope you know that.”

Luke lets out a nervous chuckle in response as he pushes Ashton away, his cheeks heating up but it’s probably because he’s wearing so many layers.

❄☃❄

**Luke** (8:56):  
ash yelled at me in walmart bc i told him we were gonna decorate his room :(  
i feel really bad abt it

 **Cal** (8:57):  
it’s bc u were being naughty.

 **Mike** (8:57):  
Did he spank u?

 **Luke** (8:58):  
u two are literally so fucking gross  
why r we friends. 

**Cal** (8:59):  
dude that’s what you get for trying to make him like Christmas  
This is a losing battle. 

**Mike** (9:00):  
^^^

 **Luke** (9:00):  
im making progress though, i think.  
he willingly bought a nutcracker??

 **Cal** (9:01):  
yeah to crack UR nuts with 

**Mike** (9:02):  
be careful L, he may get violent

 **Luke** (9:02):  
gtg he’s trying to buy an ornament shaped like a pickle

 **Cal** (9:03):  
Please god let him

❄☃❄

Ashton drives them back to the dorm, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. Luke can’t help but notice that he is playing his own CD instead of the radio. When he points it out, Ashton tells him it’s because he hates Christmas music and that’s all the radio is playing right now.

Luke once again gets to sit in the front seat and this time he lets himself be more comfortable, putting his feet up on the dash, the back of the car stuffed with every possible Christmas item Luke thinks they will need for the rest of the week. 

Today, he plans, is dedicated to decorating his dorm until he has to go to work at two and then he has to stay there until seven and from there it’s back home to watch a movie with Ashton over dinner. 

He is mapping out the week’s schedule in his head over and over again as gazes out the window at all the unlit Christmas decorations they’re passing at ten in the morning.

“So,” Ashton voices, his thumbs hitting the wheel in quick succession to the tune on his CD (which they must have listened to in full about seven times since the drive to the airport), “I assume I have to help you hang all those lights up, then?”

Luke tells the window, “That’s the plan.”

“And then the tree is tomorrow?” Ashton is nodding to himself as if he also has a copy of the schedule behind his eyes, reading through it mentally. Luke agrees, happy that Ashton has been listening at all to his ideas and that he is agreeing with them. Ashton chides to his side, “But you have work tonight, and you have to write some of your paper.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Luke grumbles, watching Christmas decorations whizz by the windows on other people’s lawns. “Got it.”

When they get back home, Ashton pulls the seven or so bags from his trunk by himself and Luke lets out a small noise, reaching out for them to which Ashton says, “you bought all of this, Luke. The least I can do is carry it.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Luke complains, feeling guilty that Ashton is hoisting all the bags by himself when it really should be a two man job. “Don’t you want help?”

“I don’t need any,” Ashton answers and he has already started up the stairs, bags thrown over his shoulder. 

Luke shakes his head before he follows after him, calling out,“you don’t like help, do you?”

Ashton answers forward but the words echo through the stairwell so Luke hears them loud and clear, “I don’t like it when I don’t need it.”

“No,” Luke iterates, hurrying after him, “I mean you don’t like it period. You’re kinda antisocial, Ash, you know that?”

Ashton laughs, turning the corner up the next flight of stairs. “Am I? How’d you figure?” 

“You stay home alone _all week_ on the single biggest holiday of the year,” Luke answers and he doesn’t miss the way Ashton’s shoulders tense, “and you didn’t tell any of your friends about it except for Cal, who I assume _had_ to know because he’s your roommate, not because you wanted him to.”

Ashton snorts but it’s not a genuine reaction and his steps have slowed on the stairs. He mutters, “Yeah, Cal likes to snoop.”

“But you never told me or Mike, and that’s—” Luke takes a breath— “I mean that doesn’t make any sense. I would have invited you to come home with me if I’d known.”

“Yeah, Cal suggested that the first time,” Ashton says, and he keeps going forward. “But, uh, I just don’t want to.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Luke asks and he doesn’t mean to sound like he’s begging but he is.

They’ve made it to their floor and Ashton takes a break at the top of the steps to reposition the bags in his arms. He gives Luke a studying look as they stand there at the top of the staircase, Luke gazing at him with imploring eyes. Ashton finally shrugs and says, like it doesn’t matter—it’s a passing thought, “I didn’t tell you because you didn’t need to know.”

Luke doesn’t get the chance to bicker with that because Ashton is heading towards his dorm so Luke is left standing at the top of the staircase, scowling at Ashton’s back. For the life of him, he can’t figure Ashton out and it’s driving him crazy. He wants to understand how Ashton’s brain works desperately, and he wants to know what events led it to work in such a way but how the week is going currently, he doubts he’s going to figure anything out. 

Ashton seems to have put his memories in a box, put that box in the back of his brain and locked it nice and tight and thrown away the key. Luke stands still in the hall, trying to figure out how he’s going to make a lock pick. 

Ashton sticks his head out from Luke’s dorm. “Are you coming or not, Hemmings? We only have three hours.”

“Shit, right.” Luke clears his head, starting for the door. 

Ashton makes sure to hold it open for him. 

They cross into the living room and Luke realizes that Ashton has already taken the liberty of opening a box of lights; unfortunately, of course, they are resting in a tangled heap in the middle of the floor. 

Luke says, upon sight of the mass, “fuck.”

“It’s fine,” Ashton assures him nonchalantly, moving to take another box of lights from one of the many bags he has deposited on the couch and then dropping to sit in the middle of Luke’s dorm floor with his legs crossed, tearing his fingers into the box. “You untangle those and I’ll untangle these.”

He looks up at Luke through his eyelashes and gives him a grin fit for a fox. 

“Bonding experience.”

“Don’t use my words against me,” Luke replies, smiling faintly as he settles in front of the lights Ashton has already opened, picking them up and looking over them, trying to determine what the best course of action for him to take is. “Jesus Christ, they tied these like boy scout knots.” 

“Then you should have no problem undoing them.” Ashton has his gaze focused on the lights in his lap, hooking his fingers into the mess of wiring. 

“Did you just call me a boy scout?”

“No, of course not.” Ashton unloops a section of wires. “That would be mean.” 

Ashton doesn’t look at him but his grin curls wide across his face and Luke thinks he looks ridiculously cute, sitting on the floor with Charlie Brown lights filling his lap and his hands twisting and turning through them, his tan hair hanging over his eyes which are directed downwards, trying to hide his dimpled smile from Luke’s peering eyes. 

He’s not doing a bad job untangling the wires and Luke regards his own lights, letting out a pathetic groan as he begins to attempt unraveling them, his fingers instantly getting caught. He grumbles, “this was not part of my itinerary.”

“Always be prepared for the unexpected,” Ashton replies, continuing to work on his lights. “Do you have your thesis statement yet?”

“What?”

Ashton peeks up through the strands of hair that have obscured his eyes. “For your paper.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I—” Luke shifts, looping the wires around so instead of untangling a knot, they create two more— “Shit.”

“Give me those,” Ashton says in a laugh, reaching out for Luke’s bunch of lights. Reluctantly Luke hands them over and Ashton begins to untangle those as well, doing a far better job than Luke was. He’s good with his hands. As he is messing with them, he remarks, “so, what’s your essay about?”

Luke doesn’t take his eyes away from the way Ashton works the knots out of the light strings, feeling like an idiot as he sits in the middle of his floor, empty handed. “Moon Trees.”

Ashton stops fidgeting with the lights. “Did you just say Moon Trees? What the fuck is a _Moon_ Tree?”

“It doesn’t matter, it has nothing to do with Christmas,” Luke protests, hugging his knees. “I don’t want to talk about school.”

“And I don’t want to talk about Christmas, but here I am, on your floor, detangling string lights so—” Ashton smiles at him— “I think sacrifices deserve to be made.”

Luke sighs, resting his chin on his knees which he has pulled to his chest. He says—and that admittance persuades Ashton to return to his work unraveling, “I’ll give you the abridged version; in 1971 NASA sent Apollo 14 into space to the moon. One astronaut—Stuart Roosa—took 500 tree seeds with them so USFS could study the effects of anti-gravity on seeds. About 400 produced seedlings and they were planted around America and now I’m here, writing a paper about how they’re growing. Yay, so fun.”

“That actually sounds pretty cool,” Ashton says and yeah, he would think so being the academic asshole he is. 

“I mean, it’s not boring.” Luke rubs his chin on his knees. “I don’t _hate_ Landscape Architecture.”

“The same way I don’t hate Christmas?” Ashton asks with a smirk evident and Luke returns it easily. 

“Yeah,” he admits, “just about.”

“Here—” Ashton pulls one of the lights so it stretches out in a long, straight line— “You go write the abstract for your paper, I’m gonna put these up around the window.”

Luke almost complains but then he realizes _holy shit, Ashton just_ volunteered _to decorate for Christmas_ and decides he will write a page if it means Ashton getting even remotely into the holiday spirit. So he mumbles an “alright” as he pushes off the carpet at the same time Ashton does, walking in different directions. 

He nearly trips on the mass of string lights that are deposited on the floor but Ashton places a steadying hand on his shoulder and he finds his balance again with a quiet ‘thank you,’ his cheeks heating up again. What the hell is wrong with him, it’s not even cold. 

As he settles down on the couch, pulling his computer onto his lap, he watches out of the corner of his eyes as Ashton moves to the window while holding the string of lights up, smiling to himself before he begins typing.

A few minutes go by as he hammers away at his keyboard, listening to Ashton shuffling about the dorm before he finishes writing his abstract and glances up. Instantly, he does a double-take . 

Somehow, in the span of the fifteen minutes he has been writing, Ashton has managed to hang up the string of Snoopy lights around the window and has already untangled another strand and is lacing it around the base of the TV stand. 

“How the hell’d you do that so fast?” Luke finds his voice asking in shock. 

Ashton snickers, glancing between Luke and the lights, saying, “what do you mean?”

Luke gestures with a hand to the window, closing his computer with the other. “You did that in like ten minutes; I thought you didn’t do Christmas stuff, how are you so good at that?”

“I’ve hung lights up before, Luke,” Ashton says, humor evident. He turns back to his task, fixing the lights along the edge of the TV stand and Luke stares at him as he does. 

“It looks great,” he informs and he can make out the shy curve of Ashton’s smile but he doesn’t say ‘thank you.’ Ashton doesn’t seem to like praise much, does he? Which is odd, considering how much he gives it out. Ashton’s mind is a fucking mystery and while Luke picks up a bunch of string lights from the floor, he watches Ashton reach towards the ceiling, his shirt riding up.

He smiles fondly and wonders when Ashton has hung lights before.

❄☃❄

**Luke** (2:04):  
at work

 **Mike** (2:04):  
Congrats so proud of you

 **Luke** (2:05):  
shut up i wasn’t done  
Ash update: we have put up Christmas lights in my dorm  
Ashton is?? Surprisingly good?? At decorating?? 

**Cal** (2:05):  
pics or it didn’t happen

❄☃❄

When Luke gets home from work that night, his neck is sore from looking up to find books and his arms are sore from reaching to taller shelves and his legs are sore from walking down the aisles in circles looking for the same goddamn book every time because he couldn’t remember where exactly he had placed it.

And all he wants—all he needs—is his bed so he can curl up and close his eyes and maybe never open them again. He and Ashton can reschedule their movie tonight; Luke is so not in the mood right now. Besides, Ashton will be grateful.

He unlocks the door to his dorm, letting out a sigh as he does, only to stop dead in the doorway. Luke _knows_ there weren’t this many decorations up when he left. 

But it seems as though someone has taken the time to string an extra set of lights along the edges of the ceiling and around the coffee table, cushioned with a ring of faux holly, a wreath hung on the back of the door, stockings pressed against the TV stand, and a nutcracker is sitting in the center of the coffee table next to Michael and Luke’s pathetic plastic tree. 

His dorm is bright with shimmering lights, red and green colors bathing the small room, the moonlight shining through the window and illuminating the space so it glows so brilliantly and Luke freezes up entirely, staring into the small room, his heart dropping into his stomach because _fuck_ Ashton Irwin. 

He’s a fucking bastard. Saying he doesn’t like Christmas and then decorating Luke’s dorm like he does; like he loves Christmas. Fuck him for letting Luke take him shopping and agreeing to do Christmas activities every day of the week even when he refuses to even listen to Christmas music on the radio. 

And, if it weren’t for the lights still being on, Luke wouldn’t have noticed the fucking bastard right there in his room—because apparently he hadn’t made it back to his own dorm (Luke wonders if he tried)—curled up on the couch asleep, facing away from the room and the lights, a blanket pulled up to his ears. 

His hair is glowing with red light and it frames his jaw and his profile so the rest of his face is engulfed in the shadow of the couch and Luke can’t stop his mind from entertaining the thought that Ashton is way too fucking pretty in the fluorescent, festive glow. 

But that’s not a thought he should be having so he does his part to push it back into his brain. 

He eases himself into the room on his tiptoes and pulls his phone out of his pocket as quietly as he can, raising it above his head so his camera can capture—without flash—the bright lights in his room and Ashton Irwin tucked into his couch like a child waiting for Christmas morning.

❄☃❄

**Luke** (7:37):  
 _image.png_  
theres ur proof

 **Cal** (7:40):  
W T F  
SERIOUSLY?? 

**Luke** (7:40):  
told u

 **Cal** (7:40):  
i literally can not believe this rn  
is he asleep??  
wait wtf i’ve never seen him sleep before  
hes so cute tho…  
no homo or whatever  
im just saying i would give that homie a kiss goodnight

 **Mike** (7:41):  
??  
Cal u guys live in the same room how have u never seen him asleep before??

 **Cal** (7:42):  
yea we live together but this bitch goes to bed at midnight and wakes up at 5 every morning to bring me poptarts  
he may be nocturnal

 **Mike** (7:42):  
wtf Luke doesn’t bring me poptarts  
can we trade roommates

 **Cal** (7:42):  
did u know that when a cat falls asleep in front of you it means that it trusts you

 **Luke** (7:43):  
ur not a vet, Cal  
also what??

 **Cal** (7:43):  
luke i think ash is cat-ing you

 **Mike** (7:43):  
could make a great joke abt pussy rn

 **Cal** (7:43):  
if u do I swtg I’ll send a screenshot to Crystal

 **Luke** (7:44):  
Who is Crystal??

 **Mike** (7:44):  
not important  
luke i think ash wants ur pussy

 **Cal** (7:45):  
thats not a good enough joke to send

 **Luke** (7:45):  
hate both of u  
How is home?

 **Mike** (7:45):  
good  
Im going to ur mom’s house tomorrow to replace you as her favorite son

 **Luke** (7:45):  
totally valid

 **Cal** (7:46):  
Then im going right after to replace michael 

**Luke** (7:46):  
she’ll like the attention  
Tell ur moms that Ash and i say hey

 **Mike** (7:46):  
will do

 **Cal** (7:47):  
tell ash he looks cute when hes sleeping  
but also say no homo pls  
make sure to say no homo  
luke  
say no homo tho

 **Mike** (7:47):  
Cal pls for fuck’s sake come out soon  
It’s getting embarrassing

❄☃❄

“Do you ever think Cal might be gay?” Luke asks conversationally as they walk through the rows of evergreen trees, Ashton on one path and him on another so they don’t see each other for more than a few seconds at a time between the ferns.

Ashton lets out a hearty laugh of surprise. “No, why?"

Luke grazes his fingers over the spiky leaves of the trees. “No reason, I was just curious. He says some… _interesting_ stuff sometimes.”

“He gets stressed out having us as friends.” Luke catches a glimpse of Ashton’s fluffy hair through the trees. “But, honestly, for being a straight guy he’s pretty cool about us being roommates. Sometimes, I think a little _too_ cool. Like… he keeps offering to leave for the night so I can bring a hookup home or for him to take me to a gay bar and be my wingman. I don’t know, I guess I appreciate the thought.”

He laughs to himself and Luke laughs with him but if he’s honest he doesn’t find the idea of Ashton bringing a hookup home very funny. He never has before, or, actually, Luke doesn’t know if he has. Ashton is a flirty person by nature but he never goes on dates or anything of that nature. Huh. Luke wonders why. It’s not like he can’t pull someone; Ashton is insanely gorgeous. And funny, and kind… He pretty much checks every box. 

Not that Luke is into him or something. 

They keep walking through the trees, Luke running his fingers over their branches and huffing in the sweet, sticky scent of the leaves. He thinks about Calum calling Ashton a cat and he says, “y’know, Cal seems to think the most intimate thing you could do with another person is spend a holiday with them.”

“Huh.” Ashton hums into the air. “Could have sworn it was a rimjob.”

Luke promptly trips over a root on the path and almost falls flat on his face.

“Shit, Luke,” Ashton exclaims, watching through a gap in the trees as Luke tries to steady himself. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, uh—” Luke hopes he’s not too red in the face but judging by the way his cheeks are _burning_ right now, he definitely is— “I’m good, I’m fine.”

He is neither good nor fine.

A _rimjob_? Ashton did not need to say that. Why the fuck would he say that? Surely he knew Luke’s imagination would provide visuals and now his brain can’t _stop_ providing them, especially when Ashton steps between the trees to get to him, offering his hand which Luke denies, glancing up in time to see Ashton flick his tongue over his lips and _fuck_ his imagination is going haywire right now. 

“You can’t say shit like that,” he manages—because Ashton needs to know there are boundaries—pushing his hair back with a gloved hand, sending a frantic look around, “there are literal children here.”

Ashton grins at him, his lips curling up and even if Luke loves his dimples, he hates how purely devilish Ashton’s expression is as he points out, “Hemmings, you’re _blushing_.”

“It’s cold!” Luke snaps and turns back down the path, hunching his shoulders into his neck and trying to rectify his scarf. He hears Ashton snicker behind him as they start to walk down the same path and he scowls. “Here, let’s just find a tree already.”

“Mhm.” Ashton lets out a whistle into the cold air and Luke keeps charging forward, looking over the trees, hoping that the heat in his cheeks finally cools down. He almost thinks it's his imagination when he hears Ashton’s voice behind him say, “you’re cute when you blush y’know.” 

Luke whips around to say over his shoulder, “and you’re a real asshole. Just so _you_ know.”

Ashton grins at him innocently. “I do know. Hey, wait how about this one here?”

He stops by a fat, stout tree on the path, tucking his hands into his pockets as he regards it, cocking his head to the side. 

“It’s fat,” Luke points out as he walks to join Ashton and stare down at the small tree.

“Don’t body shame my tree,” Ashton says. “I want the fat tree. We’re getting the fat tree.”

And Luke has been dragging Ashton around the world for a holiday he despises so he figures he can agree to this one small thing. Besides, the fat tree isn’t ugly. 

He takes his phone out of his pocket and snaps a picture of the fat little tree. 

“What’s that for?” Ashton asks, watching as Luke types a text out. 

“It’s for Cal and Mike.” Luke pockets his phone. “I’m sending them proof you’re doing Christmas things with me.”

Ashton laughs. “Okay, well, make sure to tell them I’m never doing this shit ever again.”

Luke tries not to show it on his face but the words make the edges of his heart crumble off and get caught in his throat.

❄☃❄

**Luke** (10:27):  
 _image.png_  
Ash made us get a fat tree

 **Cal** (10:27):  
Ash isn’t in the photo. There is no proof that Ash is even there.  
FAKE NEWS

 **Mike** (10:28):  
get a pic of him next to the tree  
Make him wear a santa hat  
or your candy cane lingerie, I’m sure he could borrow it

 **Luke** (10:28):  
he says, and i quote, ‘over my fucking rotting corpse.’

 **Cal** (10:29):  
he has such a way with words.

❄☃❄

Ashton forces the fat tree into the corner of Luke’s dorm (Luke tries not to grow too enamored with the way Ashton’s arm muscles flex as he hoists the thing around) and it almost makes him burst out laughing, just looking at it crammed there against the wall between the TV stand and the window, standing about five feet tall but it’s cute, actually, and Ashton almost seems proud of it, the way he is standing in the center of the decorated dorm, hands on hips, nodding to himself in satisfaction.

Whatever gets him in the holiday spirit.

“Okay.” Ashton claps his hands together. “Let’s get some tinsel on this fatass!”

“I thought you said not to body shame the tree,” Luke says with a snort as he moves to the last bag of unopened supplies they bought yesterday. 

“That’s not body shaming, that’s a compliment,” Ashton replies, walking over to Luke, his chest right against Luke’s back as they stand in front of the counter, radiating heat against Luke’s spine. “For instance, you have a fat ass and that’s great.”

Luke flips around, causing Ashton to step back, his jaw dropping as he shouts, “ _no_!”

Ashton cackles, backing away from Luke and to the tree again, holding a hand to his stomach. 

“You better watch your mouth, Irwin, because you’re on thin fucking ice,” Luke snaps, snagging the tree lights out of the bag. His face is starting to burn again.

“C’mon.” Ashton lends him a pout, batting his eyelashes. “You can’t be mad at me.”

“I absolutely can,” Luke returns, handing the lights over to Ashton who takes them while still smiling at Luke as he turns around to get more out of the bag. “This is a _wholesome_ holiday and you are ruining it!”

Ashton doesn’t say anything back, merely chuckling to himself as he begins to string the lights through the tree’s branches. Luke arrives at his side a few moments later, glaring at him as he hangs an ornament on the tree. 

They continue to decorate the plant in silence until Ashton says to his side where Luke is hanging an ornament on one of the lower branches, kneeling on the floor, “okay, so I don’t hate this.”

Luke blinks up at him. “What?”

Ashton bobs his head to the lights he is wrapping around the tree’s body. “You know. Decorating the tree with you. I don’t hate it.”

Luke blinks twice, long and slow, before a smile breaks out over his face and he beams brighter than the lights they’re stringing through chunky branches. He cooes, “Ash—”

“Nope.” Ashton shakes his head and takes the ornament Luke is holding in his hand and putting it on the tree higher up. “Don’t say a word. You’ll ruin it.”

Luke wants to say, _Ashton, I am so happy right now that you just said that. Like you have literally no idea because I was really starting to stress about forcing you to do all this Christmas stuff but you’re smiling right now and have I told you how pretty you are when you smile? Because, fuck._

But he doesn’t say a word, only nods with a shimmering smile on his face as he hands Ashton another ornament.

❄☃❄

**Luke** (12:45):  
 _image.png_

 **Cal** (12:46):  
…  
is that,,,  
Ashton Irwin???  
decorating a fucking CHRISTMAS TREE ???

 **Mike** (12:47):  
why does he actually look happy doing it

 **Cal** (12:48):  
Luke what have you done  
are you blackmailing him  
are you threatening to expose his nudes or something  
(if u are pls send some)

 **Mike** (12:48):  
im genuinely beginning to think you sucked his dick at this point 

**Luke** (12:48):  
Nope :)  
he just likes me more than you 

**Cal** (12:49):  
outrageous.

❄☃❄

After lunch—which Ashton had insisted on paying for because he’s a perfect little asshole—Luke headed to work and now he is walking between the shelves like Ashton and he had walked through trees earlier and the books smell nicer than the cold air but they simply don’t feel the same against his knuckles as the ferns did while he grazes them and he hates that he can’t see Ashton’s hazel eyes between the pages like he could see them between the branches.

He thinks about hazel eyes hovering in the spaces between green leaves and he takes in a heavy breath.

There aren’t any customers right now so he doesn’t have anything to do but pace through the aisles, thinking to himself. Certainly not about things he _should_ be thinking about. 

He can’t ease his brain out of the images of Ashton sleeping on his couch in the halo of Christmas lights and his deeply drawn dimples when he smiled while putting ornaments on a fat tree. He had looked like he was genuinely enjoying himself when he decorated and Luke can’t believe that Ashton claims to hate it. 

And now he’s trailing through the bookshop wondering why Ashton _does_ hate Christmas. Or, more importantly, why he doesn’t have any family to spend it with.

Is he estranged? Are his parents dead? Is he an orphan? Has he ever had family? Maybe he doesn’t have enough money like Luke. But Ashton hung up lights like a pro and he sawed down that Christmas tree like he had done it a time or two and Luke can easily conjure an image of Ashton as a child, sleeping on the couch in front of the tree, setting plates of cookies out for Santa, and listening eagerly for reindeer paws on the roof. 

He thinks about little dimpled, hazel-eyed Ashton sitting in front of a chimney, staring up at stockings, waiting for Santa Claus. And it makes him frown, because what ended that? What ruined Christmas for Ashton Irwin?

“Hey do you guys have a copy of _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ , I’m looking for tips.”

Luke turns around in surprise to see none other than Ashton himself in the aisle behind him, grinning widely and he doesn’t look like a little boy waiting for Santa; he looks like a tired man who stays up too many nights and hides too many secrets behind deep dimples.

Luke fumbles to find words, “Ash, hey. What’re you doing here?”

Ashton sends a look to the books around him and runs his knuckles over their bridges. “Got bored with my yoga and my homework so…” He looks at Luke and smiles. “Swung by to say hi. Hi.”

Luke chuckles. “Hi. I’m at work.”

“I know, I know.” Ashton nods, slipping his hand from the books. “I’ll leave in a second, just thought I’d bring you this while I take my break.”

It’s then that he extends his other hand to Luke, revealing the hot chocolate he has apparently been carrying with him and Luke’s eyes widen at the sight. He says, “Ash—”

“I know,” Ashton says again as he hands it over to Luke. “I’m your favorite.”

“Don’t tell Michael,” Luke replies in a small voice as he accepts the drink. 

“I won’t.” He watches as Luke takes a sip of his hot chocolate. “So, what’s on the Christmas plan for today?”

Luke swallows his drink and gives Ashton a funny look because he can’t believe he’s honestly asking but Ashton doesn’t seem to be joking so he answers, “tonight we’re watching _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ and tomorrow we’re baking cookies.”

Ashton rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m gonna be a twenty-year-old man making cookies with his best friend.”

Luke stiffens a little at the words and Ashton seems to notice, his smile doubling its size. 

He says like it’s a secret meant for only the two of them and the books on the shelves, “Don’t tell Cal.”

Luke laughs nervously. 

He doesn’t plan to.

❄☃❄

**Luke** (7:20):  
Ash and i are watching Nightmare before christmas tonight and he likes it!!  
Btw who was gonna tell me Ash knows how to cook Ziti. This shit is incredible. I feel like I need to pay him for it.

 **Cal** (7:27):  
He cooked you fucking ZITI??  
I swtg I’m gonna beat his ass when I come home  
he is wasting all his talents on you.  
he decorates for christmas with you, he watches movies with you, he cooks you food, seriously, what the fuck this isn’t fair I’m suing.

 **Mike** (7:27):  
Cal i hate to break it to you  
it’s bc he doesn’t have a crush on YOU

 **Luke** (7:28):  
well he doesn’t have a crush on me either??

 **Mike** (7:28):  
Oh no, totally, you’re absolutely right  
He buys fat little christmas trees for all his friends.  
Completely normal behavior  
dumbass

❄☃❄

“I would love it,” Luke says from where he is sitting on the couch with his computer in his lap, open to the fifth page of his paper, “if it snowed on Christmas.”

“Yeah, and I’d love it if everything I touched turned to gold,” Ashton replies from where he is pressing chocolate hershey kisses into the center of sugar cookies, “but here I am, in my dorm room, no gold in sight.”

“Trust me, that cookie is gonna taste better than gold,” Luke calls with a grin, eyeing it. He would be helping (and he wants to be helping) if Ashton hadn’t banished him to his computer to work on his paper. Granted, he wouldn’t have actually been much help seeing as how he has about as much cooking ability as a penguin does. 

Ashton doesn’t say anything back, only letting out a small hum as he continues his task. 

Luke writes a couple more words in his paper before he asks, “hey, can I play some Christmas music?”

“Depends,” Ashton answers without looking up, “how much longer are you planning on living?”

Luke takes that as an invitation to turn on his Christmas playlist and the moment the bells start ringing from his laptop Ashton lets out a distraught groan. Luke laughs, protesting, “It’s part of the holidays!”

“I hate the holidays,” Ashton reminds, wiping his hands off on his pants. “I thought we’d been through that.”

“C’mon,” Luke complains, continuing to smile, “stop being a Scrooge.”

“I’m not being a Scrooge,” Ashton argues. 

Luke grins at him, pushing his laptop—which continues to spurt out music—off to the side onto one of the couch cushions. He gets up from where he is sitting and moves to the center of the dorm. He asks, shaking his shoulders in a crude invitation, “you wanna dance?”

“To Christmas music?” Ashton repeats. “Drowning sounds more fun.”

“Ashton!” Luke scoffs. “I swear to God, you’re ridiculous!”

“No. I’m not ridiculous. I just don’t want to dance. Not to Christmas music. I’m not dancing.” Ashton shakes his head. He glances at the computer. “Especially not to _Baby, It’s Cold Outside_ of all songs. I have common decency.”

“I don’t care if it’s controversial,” Luke says with a roll of his eyes, walking to the other man, “the Glee version goes hard.”

Ashton snorts, watching as Luke lands in front of him, hands on hips. 

“C’mere, tough guy. One song.” Luke tilts his head as he extends his upturned palm for Ashton to take. 

Ashton regards it for a second before laughing softly, like he can’t believe he’s really doing this (but he’s been doing a lot of things this week Luke thought he wouldn’t ever do), as he accepts Luke’s hand, their fingers instantly curling together.

Ashton’s hand is warm and Luke tries not to show off his surprise when Ashton presses into him, pulling them together, their legs bumping, hands clasped to one side and Ashton’s other arm coming around his waist. Luke’s hand moves to his shoulder.

“It’s Christmas music, Ash,” Luke teases, “not a fucking waltz.”

“Listen, do you wanna dance or not?” Ashton retorts and Luke can’t help but laugh.

They aren’t necessarily dancing, not in the way that Luke had assumed they would. They’re more swaying together and it’s… it’s perhaps too intimate but it feels nice, Ashton’s large hand on his side and wrapped around his own.

Luke takes in a shallow breath before he dips his head and drops it to Ashton’s shoulder. He is humming along into the curve of Ashton’s neck.

Ashton doesn’t say anything. He simply keeps the two of them moving gently side to side. 

This is definitely too intimate. 

Ashton smells sweet like sugar and Luke feels like he could fall asleep in his arms. He’s in too deep, he thinks. He’s in way too fucking deep. So the second the song stops, he pulls away and he thinks he can save the moment—make it obvious that he is definitely not into Ashton or his dimples or his warm embrace or his hazel eyes—by patting him roughly on the shoulder and saying, “thanks, man. Better finish my paper.”

He flashes a grin and walks back to his computer, leaving Ashton standing next to the counter with a frown. 

Ashton mumbles, turning away, “oh, yeah. I gotta finish my cookies anyways.”

Luke doesn’t understand why he looks so sad. 

He didn’t even want to dance in the first place.

❄☃❄

**Luke** (5:06):  
Ash made cookies today

 **Cal** (5:07):  
If you learned voodoo somewhere and ur controlling him, pls teach me your ways bc I want to voodoo Mike into doing my laundry

 **Luke** (5:07):  
And we’re watching the grinch tonight 

**Mike** (5:08):  
would love it if you could write a compare and contrast essay between the grinch and Ash

 **Luke** (5:08):  
honestly will think about it

❄☃❄

He gives Ashton the next day off. No annoying Christmas activities. No harping on him to hang lights or bake cookies. He needs the afternoon to write his paper. Besides, tomorrow is the day before Christmas Eve and he’s going to be dragging Ashton to go see Christmas lights with him all night (which Ashton had nearly screamed over) so he figures the man needs an afternoon of rest.

He doesn’t know why he thought this was a good idea though because he forgot what Ashton does on his days off are yoga and homework. 

Mostly yoga. 

And there are few things in the world as distracting as Ashton Irwin bending himself backward in the middle of the living room, sweat darkening the collar of his shirt as it runs down his face, making his skin glisten and his hair hang in damp curls over his face. 

“I thought yoga was supposed to be relaxing,” Luke murmurs, watching Ashton pull himself from Cobra position (Ashton has been prattling off their names to Luke every time he does a new one). 

“It is,” Ashton replies as he stretches his arms out. “Warrior two.”

“You look like you’ve just run a marathon,” Luke notes, watching as the muscles in Ashton’s arms flex, forcing himself to swallow thickly. 

Ashton chuckles. “I’ve been doing it for about two hours now, Luke, chances are I’m gonna work up a sweat. Sorry, am I distracting you? Do I need to do this in my bedroom?”

“No.” That’s a lie. He does. Luke can’t focus on anything other than the way Ashton’s chest is rising and falling while he breaths in soft pants and the sweat that is running down his temple. “It’s fine.”

“Okay, cool.” Ashton smiles at him, dimples creating the ideal divet in his face for sweat to drip down. “This one’s called the Pyramid.”

❄☃❄

**Luke** (7:20):  
Going with ash tonight to see Christmas lights

 **Mike** (7:25):  
Hope u two crazy kids have fun

 **Cal** (7:26):  
Remember  
no pictures, no proof

❄☃❄

The Botanical Gardens is an hour away by car and even though Ashton complains half the way there that he shouldn’t have to do this and that he’s not going to like it and that Luke is basically kidnapping him, it’s completely fucking worth it because _wow_ Luke has never seen something so beautiful in his entire life.

The lights curl around the tree trunks and their branches and glow like how Luke imagines Heaven does. They have lights in the shapes of reindeer and toy trains and nutcrackers and every other holiday symbol imaginable and Luke walks through the gateway of lights, his jaw dropped to the floor. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes. 

Ashton isn’t speaking a word, following behind him at a sluggish pace, his jacket collar pulled around his throat and his hands jammed into his pockets.

Luke says, “it’s incredible.”

“It’s okay.” 

Ashton gazes around them as they walk down the path in the cold night, staring at all the collections and displays, each more brilliant than the last and Luke feels like he’s a kid again, bouncing around his home town with his mom and dad on Christmas Eve looking at all the lights their neighbors have hung up. It’s one of his favorite parts of Christmas. 

And, yeah, maybe for a second there’s a small pit in his stomach that he would rather be there with his family looking at lights, listening to his mother and father purr about their beauty and his brothers laugh and bicker instead of looking at the lights with Ashton, who is glaring around like he’s never been so disgusted in his life. 

“At least pretend you’re having a good time,” Luke says with a frown. 

Ashton starts to protest, “But it’s—”

“Not your thing, I know.” Luke shakes his head, hugging his arms around himself to keep his body warmth trapped. “But maybe tuck away your cynicism for like five minutes and try to enjoy this with me. These lights are gorgeous.”

Ashton is watching him closely and he takes in a deep breath, glancing away. “Yeah.”

He sniffs, adjusting his jacket. 

The words are far too sincere when they breach the air. “It’s beautiful.”

Luke takes that as a silent victory and he smiles like he’s been appeased before they continue on their way down the path, the shimmering glow around them illuminates half their faces and nothing more, shadows slinking through the Christmas spirit, Ashton’s silhouette sulking along.

Luke can’t help but try and fill the silence with stupid anecdotes, telling stories about Christmases with his family and it’s really only a way for him to feel less guilty about not being with them. He knows his mom is distraught he isn’t there and he is too. 

“But I’ll be there next year,” he offers, “so it’s okay. And this has been a lot calmer than my usual Christmases which I appreciate. God, my brothers are a fucking menace during the holiday. One year, Ben actually hid all the presents on Christmas Eve and told me that Santa put me on the naughty list and took them all back. I cried for _hours_ until my parents came home.” 

Luke glances over, hoping to see Ashton’s smile staring back at him, but it’s not there.

They’ve stopped in front of one display, a series of lights that are shaped like elves busy building toys and on any other night, he wouldn’t have been able to see it but in the glow of the Christmas lights he can. 

He can make out Ashton’s sharp profile framed in red, hazel eyes unfocused ahead of them, and the way they are glistening in the darkness with tears he hasn’t shed.

“Woah, Ash?” Luke asks, voice low, his smile falling instantly. “Hey, are you okay?” 

Ashton jerks his head to the side to see that Luke is watching him and he moves to wipe his nose and his eyes with a hand instantly, directing his gaze to the ground while shaking his head. He mumbles, “shit, sorry, yeah. I uh, I got something in my eye—”

“No, you didn’t.”

Ashton stops and he looks at Luke through his eyelashes and his fluffy gold curls that hang over his face and Luke hates it. He hates how Ashton’s eyes are red at the corners and that his brows are angled up like he’s in pain and that he has his bottom lip fit snug between his teeth because he’s chewing on it to avoid saying anything. He hates that Ashton is hurting.

“Ash,” Luke tries, keeping his voice soft, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Ashton answers in a second, tearing his eyes away. “I got something in my eye, seriously.”

Luke exhales. “Ashton—”

“My family and I used to go see Christmas lights,” Ashton answers like he’s been forced to say it. He makes sure not to look Luke in the eyes. “It was what we did. One tradition. Christmas Eve, go see lights.”

Luke feels like he couldn’t have possibly heard that right. There’s no way Ashton willingly told him a fact about himself. But the worst part is, that answer creates about four hundred more questions. It’s what they used to do? How large was his family? What happened? Why doesn’t he still see lights with them? Why is he trying not to cry?

And now Luke feels like a terrible person for hauling him along because he knows that he’s the reason Ashton’s eyes are glistening.

“Fuck.” Luke stares at him, his heart beating out of his chest. “Ash, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Ashton replies without a second's beat. “What for? Not your fault. I’m being dramatic.” 

“You’re not being dramatic. I’m really sorry,” Luke tries to convince him; there’s nothing dramatic about trying not to cry in front of your friend, not when you really need to cry. “I didn’t know.”

Ashton lets out a small laugh at that, sending Luke a glance and his smile is nothing but dazzling and Luke is so happy it came home. The words are soothing. “I know you didn’t know.”

Luke sort of hates that even in this moment, Ashton is the one trying to console him. 

He sighs, patting Ashton on the shoulder. He says, “c’mon. We can go home.”

“If you wanna stay—” Ashton tries but Luke won’t let him. 

“I’m ready to go home.”

And he honestly is. Anywhere that Ashton doesn’t want to be, Luke has no place being.

❄☃❄

**Cal** (8:48):  
so no pics of lights?

 **Luke** (8:49):  
we actually ended up not going

 **Mike** (8:50):  
makes sense  
Ash was bound to stop you eventually.  
you two still on good terms? No murder? No fights?

 **Luke** (8:51):  
Ash and I are good dw  
we just decided seeing lights wasn’t the right thing to do.

❄☃❄

“I really didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Luke offers as they walk up the stairs.

“And you really didn’t, Luke, don’t worry about it.” Ashton speaks ahead of him to the stairwell, already pulling out his copy of Luke’s key from his pockets. “It’s a personal thing and it’s one I seriously need to get over so don’t go feeling bad on my behalf.”

“Okay…” Luke watches him clunk up the stairs on heavy shoes. “But, I mean, if you ever want to talk about it—”

“I don’t.”

He figures that’s fair enough. He just wants Ashton to know he has the option to. 

“Hey, uh.” Ashton rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as they make it to the top of the staircase. “Do you mind if I just go to my dorm tonight? I’m kinda tired and I don’t really… I don’t think I can stomach a Christmas movie tonight.”

“Oh—” Luke tries not to let it show visibly on his face how sad that makes him. 

“Sorry Lu,” Ashton says and he genuinely sounds like he is sorry even though he shouldn’t be. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to,” Luke says. He doesn’t have to but knowing Ashton, he’ll try.

Ashton moves like he’s going to walk down the hall to his own dorm but he stops, glancing back at Luke, a frown evident on his features. “I’m gonna be sappy for a second, okay, don’t make fun of me.”

Luke wouldn’t dream of it.

Ashton braces his hand on the doorframe and he keeps his eyes on his shoes. “I really have appreciated all the Christmas stuff, Luke. Seriously I have.”

Luke can’t help but let out a noise of surprise. “You have?”

Ashton grins up at him briefly. “Yeah, I have. I appreciate you, I do. I just don’t like the season s’all. It’s seriously nothing to do with you and your cute ideas and your holiday spirit. You almost made it tolerable. So don’t go feeling bad.”

“I’m happy you let me drag you around the world this week.” Luke blinks at him with big baby blue eyes. “I needed it... Christmas alone sucks.”

Ashton darts his eyes away and Luke knows he shouldn’t have said that but he can’t help that it’s the truth. He drops his arms to his side. 

“Seriously, Ash, I’m not letting you be alone for Christmas.” It’s not something that can be argued with. “It’s depressing.”

Ashton opens his mouth to retort but he doesn’t get the chance as Luke bobs his head back to his dorm room. 

“You gotta tell me what it is.” He shakes his head, staring at Ashton through an imploring gaze. “It’s driving me crazy. And then tonight you cried?”

“Hey,” Ashton starts low like a warning. 

“I’m serious.” Luke feels like he’s begging. “Why do you hate Christmas?”

“Because—” Ashton exhales roughly— “I don’t wanna sound dramatic.” 

Luke hates that he is so constantly concerned with that. “You’re not gonna sound dramatic, Ash, I promise.”

“Except that I am.” Ashton smiles at him. “So I’ll just say it outright, uh, I used to celebrate Christmas with my mom and then we kind of had a falling out.”

“That’s not an answer. What do you mean?” Luke asks and Ashton lets out this puff of air like he wished Luke hadn’t asked.

And then it’s said in one breath, so simple, like it isn’t the most painful thing Luke’s ever heard in his life, “I mean that my mom dated the world’s biggest piece of shit—I mean a fucking bastard, alcoholic, drug dealer. He used to hit—” he cuts himself off— “and I couldn’t take it anymore so I went to her and said ‘it’s me or him.’”

Luke’s stomach drops. 

“And now I celebrate Christmas alone.” Ashton sniffs, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. “There. Boom. Story told.”

“Ashton—” Luke starts.

“Can we please not talk about this?” Ashton’s eyes are looking glittery again with tears. “It’s a shitty thing that happened but I’m okay now seriously.”

Luke may have believed him if his voice hadn’t cracked. 

“I don’t want your sympathy or anything like that, I’m overreacting.” Ashton acts like he belives what he’s saying. “I’m being dramatic and I know that.”

Luke feels like yelling at him, or maybe just strangling whatever person made him feel that way. “You’re not being _dramatic_ , Ash, you’re having feelings; there’s a difference.”

Ashton stares at him blankly for a moment. 

“Now, I don’t want your dumb ass spending Christmas locked in your dorm room when I’m here. I am here for you, asshole.” Luke’s voice is sharper. “You’re one of the people in the world who means the most to me, Ash, and I won’t let you sit in your puddle of pain on a yoga mat. It’ll kill me.”

Ashton’s eyes have widened. And then he risks a smile. “Okay now _you’re_ being dramatic.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Luke laughs. “I love you, Ashton, and I’m not gonna let you spend Christmas alone.”

Ashton’s hazel eyes are wet but he doesn’t dare let a tear slip. That would be too much.

Luke is definitely begging. “Please come home with me for Christmas, Ash. Please.”

Ashton lets out a nervous chuckle, shooting his gaze from Luke to his feet again. He is blinking tears out of his eyes. “You keep saying stuff like that, Hemmings, and people are gonna think you’re into me.”

“Yeah,” Luke replies, crossing his arms, “and if you keep making jokes about rimming and my fat ass, people are gonna think _you’re_ into _me_. It’s a two way street, buddy.”

Ashton smirks up at him and he shakes his head, gently closing the door behind him. As he walks past Luke, bumping the backs of their hands together as he goes. There’s this way his eyes flash. “I think people can think what they want then.”

When he lands on the couch, Luke joins him and he doesn’t know what compels him to be so bold but he curls up into Ashton’s side as he snags the remote. It’s probably just so Ashton knows he’s there. 

Ashton doesn’t protest, looping his arm around Luke’s shoulders. 

The TV flickers. 

Luke feels like his heart has fallen to bits in his chest, thinking about Ashton feeling like he has no one and he wants to tell him he won’t be alone. Or, if he wants to be alone, Luke wants him to know he doesn’t have to be. There’s always the option not to be. If he wants a hug, Luke’s arms are open. For Ashton, they are always open. 

It takes a moment for Ashton to speak, right above Luke’s ear in a whisper, “y’know I heard somewhere the most intimate thing you can do with another person is celebrate a holiday together.” 

“Huh.” Luke shifts his head on Ashton’s shoulder and his warmth is overwhelming. Luke hopes Ashton knows his arms are open. “I think I’ve heard that somewhere too.”

❄☃❄

Luke doesn’t text the boys with an update for that one. There’s no way to say _I broke the Ashton code fellas,_ without breaking the new code he’s made for himself which is, _never tell a soul about Ashton’s secrets. They’re his_. But he does text them on Christmas Eve (right after he texts his mother) to wish them a happy holiday and tells them that Ashton and he are going ice skating.

After last night, Luke is surprised that Ashton agreed to go but there’s no indication that anything’s wrong. In fact, Ashton is acting the happiest he has all week and that’s starting to throw Luke off. 

“Should I be concerned?” Luke asks him, standing against the rink and watching Ashton lace up his skates. 

“About?” Ashton glances up, dazzling Luke with his smile.

“About how good you seem right now. I mean last night—”

Ashton cuts him off by standing up. “Luke, last night was weird. Last night I told you shit I have never told another human being ever. And I know I should be like, devastated or something by it but I’m happy. Genuinely, right now I’m happy.”

Luke looks him over skeptically. “You’re _happy_?”

Ashton smiles at him softly and he confesses, “I’m happy that you’re the person I told.” 

Luke doesn’t know why those words hit him as sharply as they do. Those words to his ears feel like the equivalent of a punch to the guts. They somehow feel stronger than someone saying ‘I love you.’ They feel like the most honest words anyone could say. And he finds himself mumbling out on numb lips, “I’m happy you told me. You can tell me anything.”

Ashton makes an odd expression and his mouth opens lightly like he is going to say something before he decides against it, and his lips close. Without another word, he walks away from Luke—stumbling a tad on his skates—before slipping onto the ice, holding the railing as he does. 

Luke follows him with his eyes and then he smiles and starts right onto the ice after him. Ashton seems to be waiting on him and he extends a hand the moment Luke reaches him so they can lock their fingers together.

“Shit,” Ashton curses, gripping onto Luke’s hand like he’s scared of dying. “I haven’t done this in forever.”

“That’s fine.” Luke laughs, holding him back just as tight. “Here, I’ll help you.”

He’s actually surprised when Ashton accepts the offer. He’s not the kind that usually would. 

And he knows it should be awkward when he wraps an arm around Ashton’s waist to guide him across the ice but then he realizes it’s the same thing they did when they danced the other day and he can’t help but laugh to himself. 

It suddenly feels like everything is coming to a culmination with the two of them. 

“What’re you laughing about?” Ashton asks, grinning at him and Luke shrugs as he guides them to the side of the rink to watch couples skate by. 

“I really like you,” Luke tells him. Honesty tastes sweet. “And I’m laughing because I just realized it.”

Ashton makes a face of confusion, like he doesn’t know what that even begins to mean and Luke doesn’t know how to explain it so he merely pushes Ashton a little bit away from him. 

“Take a lap around and try not to fall,” he says. 

Ashton doesn’t seem very pleased with that but he starts to move away, saying, “when I get back, you’re gonna explain what the hell you just said means.”

Luke won’t count on that but he nods as an answer, watching as Ashton pushes away from him and begins to circle the ice. Luke takes a long breath to himself, thinking about how he’s going to explain to Ashton what he’s feeling. He can hardly explain it to himself. 

He watches as people shuffle about with their lives, parents grabbing children up into their arms to keep them from slipping on the ice, people adjusting coats and gloves, scarves being thrown over shoulders or teenagers breathing puffs of fog and laughing at the way it curls in the air like they’re dragons. 

Ashton slowly returns, coming to a stop beside Luke, bracing his hands against the railing of the rink to keep himself from falling over, raising his brows at the sight of Luke standing alone as snow begins to fall on his coat, sprinkling him in a thin layer of white flakes. 

“Hey,” he greets in a puff, “what’s going on?”

Luke glances at him and smiles. “Nothing. I’m thinking.”

Ashton drapes his arms over the railing as well, cocking his head to the side to watch Luke’s profile. He reaches out with a hand and brushes off the shoulders of Luke’s coat. “About?”

“How happy I am,” Luke says to Ashton in a small laugh. 

The lights hang from the trees and people dance across the ice and Luke thinks to himself that here, now, is the closest he is ever going to get to living in a fairytale. 

“I just…” He glances over to Ashton, beaming, and he opens his mouth in a smile, shakes his head and closes it before he says in a sigh. It’s so honest that it makes him breathless. “I’m happy right now. With you for Christmas. Even though you hate it—and you’re allowed to. You’ve made me so fucking happy.”

When he looks back, Ashton has his head tilted to the side while gazing at Luke with those shiny hazel eyes and he has his eyebrows angled up, his smile soft and perfectly quirked at the corners to show off his dimples, and it’s nothing but this gentle fond look that he’s keeping Luke trapped in. 

And then he says, in this quiet sigh so a breath of fog parts his lips, “Luke…”

Luke almost replies ‘yeah?’ but he only just begins to open his mouth before Ashton has reached out and taken him by the chin between two fingers—shock shooting up through Luke, his body going stiff—and all he can do is stare at Ashton with wide blue eyes and his lips parted in an ‘o’ of surprise.

Ashton smiles at him again, broader, sweeter, as he repeats like it means so many things, “ _Luke_.” 

He takes it to mean _you’ve made me happy too_. Or maybe it isn’t his smile that means that, it’s the way he leans in and kisses him that does. 

There’s a sudden chill that inches up Luke’s spine, making him tremble all over as he melts into Ashton’s touch, gripping onto the ice rink railing with one hand to keep himself upright, and he doesn’t know if the chill is because of the snowflakes beginning to dot his shoulders and hair or if he is just the sort of person who shivers when he gets kissed. 

“Sorry,” Ashton murmurs as he pulls away, breath huffing out in a fog. “That just felt like the thing to do.”

Luke stares at him in a daze. He says, “yeah. For sure. Merry Christmas.”

Ashton laughs loudly in surprise. “Really? That’s what you have to say? _Merry Christmas_?”

Luke is still holding on to Ashton’s shoulder. “Fuck, I don’t know. I’m panicking. You taste like Hot Chocolate.”

Ashton rolls his eyes and he dips in again to press his lips to Luke’s for a split second, leaving Luke wanting more and more. Snow has speckled his hair and his jacket and the Christmas lights make Ashton’s features glow. 

He says, as if it’s a decision that took him a while to make, “Merry Christmas, Luke.”

All Luke ever wants is for him to be happy. All he wants is for Ashton to know his arms are open. But instead of saying it, he wraps his arm around Ashton’s waist and kisses him again and hopes that’s enough to let him know.

❄☃❄

**Luke** (10:06):  
_image.png_  
Merry Christmas from Ash and me :) 

**Mike** (10:07):  
…

 **Cal** (10:07):  
I know for a fact  
That is not a picture  
Of you and ashton irwin  
K I S S I N G  
IN FRONT OF A FUCKING CHRISTMAS TREE  
ARE WE IN THE FUCKING TWILIGHT ZONE RN???

 **Mike** (10:08):  
honestly, props to you Luke.  
I don’t know what’s more impressive…  
that you made Ashton fall in love with Christmas in a week or that you made him fall in love with you.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays!
> 
> *̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥ 


End file.
